by Cari Z
“Good morning, Maria.”
“It looks like yours has been. So, do you want the good news or the bad news first?”
Rio raised an eyebrow. “There’s good news?”
“Yes. In this case, the good news is that your efforts at destroying the Pearly Gates were very complete. The local cops are confused; they were thinking it was some sort of retro opium den, and radio chatter indicates no suspicions of outside involvement. Hence, good.”
“And the bad news?” Devon asked.
A new face came into the frame. This woman was older than Maria, late thirties or early forties. Her hair was a natural honey blonde, and she had a kind, gentle face. She was also the last person Rio had expected to see right now. “Elli?”
“Hi, boys.” She smiled tiredly, deep grooves bracketing the sides of her mouth.
“What are you doing at Maria’s? Is Ron there too?” Elli was Ron’s better half, and they almost never traveled anywhere without each other, especially not when it meant leaving headquarters. Running Safeguard Systems was their calling, not just their business.
She shook her head. “Ron is still in Durango. I made the trip last night once Maria told me what happened. I thought I could help her winnow through the surveillance footage faster if I were on site.”
“And that…sucked?” Devon asked with a wince.
“There weren’t enough satellite feeds covering that part of the desert,” Elli said. “We followed a whole bunch of scared assholes back to Vegas, and we’re opening files on all of them because it’s possible—not likely, but possible—that some of them learned something about demon summoning. Porter Grey wasn’t in the crowd, though.”
“I’m sorry we lost him, Elli.”
She forced a smile, but it was tight and unconvincing. Elli had more reason than anyone to despise Porter Grey, and her peace of mind had been shredded when they'd learned he was back in the country. “We found him once, we could find him again. But we’re going to need help to get that done. Rio,” she looked on him, “do you have it with you?”
“Yeah,” he said. Devon looked at him curiously but Rio stayed focused on Elli’s somber face.
“You need to find someone to read it. There are three different people in Vegas who could probably do it; I’m sending you the files we have on them.”
“You got it, Elli.”
“What about me?” Devon asked.
“Stick with Rio for now, Devon. You two are the best we have when it comes to Safeguard’s supernatural division, and I want both of you on this case. Maria will continue to be your contact for the duration of the assignment.”
“Does that mean we get to learn the location of Maria’s super-secret lair?” Devon asked impishly, reaching out to stroke Maggie’s head. Maria was one of the few handlers who didn’t work through the main office in Durango, Colorado. She had a secure setup in a private location for reasons Devon didn’t know and Rio wasn’t going to tell, no matter how hard Devon leveled those Bambi eyes his way. Privacy in the spy trade was hard to come by, and sacrosanct among friends.
“No, Harper,” Maria said dryly. “You don’t.”
“Maria…”
“No, and no, and no. You guys should get to studying. You need to be in Vegas and hunting down Porter Grey as soon as possible. Any information you get, you pass along for verification. These people you’re going to talk to…” She grimaced. “They aren’t exactly known for their trustworthiness. Do you have the equipment you’re going to need for this?”
“I’ve got plenty of firepower.”
“We’re going to Vegas, Rio, we either need flashy suits or tourist gear, not camouflage and RPGs,” Devon said. “Not that you aren’t dead sexy when you’re being a badass, baby, but you’re not exactly at your best in more subtle circumstances.”
“Oh right,” Rio scoffed, “because subtlety is your middle name.”
“Hello lover’s quarrel, and that’s our cue to sign off,” Maria said quickly. “Keep your coms close. Daily updates in the morning and the evening. If I go without hearing from either of you for more than twelve hours, I activate your trackers and send in the cavalry.”
“I hate it when you turn that thing on,” Devon complained. “It itches.”
“Don’t get abducted and it’ll be a non-issue.”
“Good luck, guys,” Elli added. “Stay safe.” The screen went dark.
“Well,” Devon said after a moment. “Vegas. Should be fun.”
“I hate Vegas,” Rio grunted, opening his company email account. Maggie sneezed in sympathy. “I can’t go ten feet in any direction without someone asking me what show I work for or what team I play on.”
“That’s what happens when you’re freakishly tall.” Devon shrugged as he stretched his arms over his head. Rio could hear his back crack. “You end up a performer one way or another. At least no one asks you how much you charge.”
“If I recall correctly, the last time you were in Vegas you were playing the part of an escort.”
“That was a great job.” Devon grinned. “I took down an entire organization built around blackmail just by being in the wrong beds at the right time. Almost got shot too; I had to bail off the balcony of one guy’s suite at MGM Grand in the nude.”
“Dare I ask how you avoided getting arrested for indecent exposure?” Rio asked as he opened up the first file.
“My audience was actually quite appreciative.” Devon tossed his head and preened a little, and it was so ridiculous and adorable that Rio had to suppress a random instinct to reach out and pull him in closer. Instead he took a look at the cover page of the file.
“Jackie Miranda.”
“Ooh, I know about him! He made his name in the city as a body guard, and he’s binge-watched the Rocky movies a few too many times,” Devon said derisively as he peered over Rio’s shoulder.
“It says here he’s beaten four people to death with his bare hands.”
“I didn’t say he wasn’t good at boxing, just that he takes it a little too much to heart,” Devon replied. “He set up as an independent operator about a year ago, and now he runs one of Vegas’s merc gangs. His people get a lot of contracts with the casino big wigs. That’s how I met him, actually, he was guarding one of the guys I was sleeping with.”
Rio ignored the last part of that sentence. “So how does this translate to him knowing anything about the supernatural?”
“He’s Cuban-American. His family practices Palo, I think, like the people-pieces-in-cauldrons type of Palo. He’s been linked to some pretty ugly stuff, but nothing’s officially stuck because, of course, magic isn’t real.”
“Huh.” Rio read a few more lines and took a long look at the man’s picture. “Not our best bet. He has more than enough money to suit his needs, and he’s got a chip on his shoulder a mile wide. I can’t threaten him and you can’t bribe him fast enough for us to do this without him fucking with us or sticking his nose too deep into our business. Either result would be bad.”
“Because then he might try to threaten us?”
“Oh, he’d definitely try to threaten us,” Rio said absently. “And then I’d have to kill him and then we’d another situation on our hands. I don’t have time to decapitate random criminal organizations in the pursuit of information, not this time around.”
Devon stared at him with an odd expression. “You’re very confident that you could take him.”
“Do you have any idea how many guys I went through to get you out of the Pearly Gates yesterday? Yeah, I can take one wannabe mobster with blood on his hands.”
“Even without a gun?”
“Yeah.” Rio opened the next file.
“Even without any weapon?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Even if he used magic on you?”
“Dev, focus.” Rio read the name on the next one. “What about this guy? Do you know anything about him?”
“Umm…” Devon looked the first page over. “Amistad Dibellious
? No, I’ve never heard of him before. What the hell kind of name is that?”
“The make-believe kind.” Rio read a little further. “Guy’s an amateur magician. He’s got a contract in one of the smaller casinos, and he’s trying to make it to the big leagues. Apparently he’s developing quite a reputation for his ‘impossible feats of prestidigitation.’”
“Like, summoning demons kinds of feats?”
“No, more like making things disappear and reappear, sleight of hand, daredevil tricks, that kind of thing.” Rio sat back and rubbed his forehead. “Not the sort of guy who’s going to be able to do what I need.”
Devon rested his chin on Rio’s shoulder. “And what is that, exactly?”
“I need a diviner. Someone who can get a bead on Porter Grey with the help of something he’s touched. Amistad’s not the one for that, and I’d rather not go to Miranda unless we’re down to our last resort.”
“Then we’d better hope that the third choice is better,” Devon said. “Who is it?”
Rio opened the last file. “Lynlis Syfer. Comparatively low key; she’s got a small place on Fremont Street.” The picture must have been an old one, because the girl shown there couldn’t have been more than fifteen, her face unreal in its childlike perfection, her hair a curly dark mop around her head. “Says here that she deals in trades and information. No specifics on the magic, but she’s associated with a lot of shady happenings…and money isn’t gonna cut it with this girl, we’re going to have to bring along something special just to get in the door with her.”
He read a bit more. “She’s taken up her old man’s business now that he’s in jail, apparently. She was sick a lot as a kid, there are plenty of hospital records for her. Ear infections, eye infections, neuropathy, chronic influenza, even—” Rio frowned at the word. “Anosmia?”
“Inability to smell,” Devon offered after a moment, sounding a little absent as he accessed the information from some almost forgotten part of his freaky-accurate memory. “What’s her father in jail for?”
“Grand larceny. Also a suspect in a murder. A couple of them, actually.” Nasty ones, from the few details that had been included here. “He’s not getting out any time soon, so his little girl is picking up where he left off. Doing a better job of it actually, from the look of things.”
“Huh.” Devon folded his legs under him and rests his elbows on his knees. “What kind of information does she like?”
“The kind that sells, I guess. Girl’s got a spooky rap, but there’s no concrete evidence that she’s got any ability supernaturally. She might just be a genius when it comes to gathering and dispensing information.”
“But she’s the best one to lay our hopes on.”
“It seems so.” Rio looked over at his partner. “You got any ideas for how to get her attention?”
“I think I could come up with something,” Devon said with a smile. “So then. Vegas?”
“Vegas,” Rio agreed.
Chapter Six
They spent another couple hours in the motel running over data and looking up everything they could on Lynlis Syfer before they headed to Las Vegas. Lynlis was an enigma; her entire childhood was spent wrapped up in hospital visits and medical bills. Her father, Beauregard Syfer, had never been your average law-abiding citizen; he’d been a bookie who ran bets on everything from horse races to sporting events to politics, but as his daughter had gotten older, he’d gotten harder. His deals had started to come with caveats, special clauses for losers that several times seemed to result in death, or at the very least, permanent disappearance.
When the money had stopped flowing in as gamblers were frightened off, Beau Syfer had turned to less conventional means of getting cash. He’d gotten into human trafficking, he’d gotten into burglary, he’d gotten into bed with the mob. For a time in the late oughts, Beau Syfer had been the most feared man in Vegas.
Until, in his arrogance, he'd tried to rob a casino. The robber barons of Vegas could and did get away with a lot, but stealing from the very institution that made their way of life possible was the unforgivable line. Beau Syfer had been shut down and shut down hard, all his assets taken away and the man himself sentenced to life in prison. His daughter had been ten years old at the time, and her guardianship passed to Beau’s girlfriend, a woman from Louisiana named Genevieve Lavey.
Lynlis had gone on to make a name for herself as one of the top go-to problem solvers in Vegas. Her medical problems slowed, then stopped altogether. She had the reputation of a soothsayer, a secret keeper, and she’d evaded public assassination attempts twice. Her confidantes changed constantly, and no one had seen Genevieve in years.
You didn’t just get an audience with Lynlis. She evaluated you, decided whether or not you were worth her time based on your name, your position and your abilities. If she let you in, you’d get what you asked for, but there was no guarantee you’d like it. Grown men had walked out of her shop sobbing. One man'd had a heart attack and died less than a block away. Lynlis Syfer was not a woman to be taken lightly.
“I still say we double-team her,” Devon said as they repacked the duffel bag with Rio’s equipment. Devon’s own emergency bag had been in the rental car he’d driven to the Pearly Gates, a gorgeous crimson Aston Martin DB9 that had undoubtedly died a fiery death at the hands of Rio’s rocket, or at least been made to suffer so much that it would only hurt Devon to look at what she had become. The bag itself didn’t really matter; all it had contained were some changes of clothes and a tablet rigged to quietly commit suicide if handled by anyone other than him. However, it did mean he was wearing yesterday’s suit today, and it had been put through the wringer. He needed new clothes.
“If Saint Peter knew to take precautions against demons, it’s a good bet that she will too,” Rio said, rebagging the kibble that Maggie hadn’t eaten. “She’s not going to let you use your allure on her.”
“Not double teaming in the classic sense.” Devon huffed, because, obviously. “I mean that we need to entice her into letting us through the door, right? Safeguard identified Jackie Miranda and this Amistad guy as her primary competition for what we need.”
“She might not think of them that way.”
“But she’s got to be aware of their existence,” Devon said, putting on his loafers. Oh, his poor beautiful loafers. They had been Italian leather. Now they were crap. Better than barefoot, but only just. “If we give her something from each of them, something personal that shows we’re good enough to get close but that we don’t care to do business with them because we know she’s the best, that’s the kind of flattery a woman can get behind.”
Rio turned and stared at him. “I’m not letting go you anywhere near Jackie Miranda,” he said flatly.
That statement could be interpreted as possessive and that was how Devon chose to take it, instead of as an indication that Rio was better prepared to handle a thug because, well, he was kind of owning the whole “tall, dark and dangerous” cliché. “That’s fine, you can have him. I’d rather deal with the magician anyway. I love magic shows.”
“He’s not exactly harmless either,” Rio warned, opening their room door. Hot, dry air flowed in immediately. “Otherwise he wouldn’t have a file with the company.”
Devon smiled sweetly. “Oh, are you concerned for my safety and wellbeing?” He batted his eyelashes. Any normal person would have been on their knees begging to suck his cock by now, or at least thinking about it, but Rio just lifted one eyebrow. “Don’t be. I’m not exactly harmless myself.” And I don’t like being underestimated, especially not by you. He pushed past Rio and headed for the parking lot.
Maggie ran over and pounced on his feet, and Devon picked her up and carried her with him to the truck. Rio had a beat-up tonneau cover over the bed, and the passenger side door was reliably unlocked. After all, who’d want to steal it? The thing looked like it would die ten minutes after you started it. Devon got in the truck, rolled down the window and slammed the door shut
. Maggie tried to lick his face.
“Yes, you get it, don’t you baby?” Devon cooed as he watched Rio approach out of the corner of his eye. “You know that just because you’re cute as a button doesn’t make you useless, don’t you? Yes you do.”
Rio opened his door and got inside. “I never said you were useless,” he said mildly as he started the engine. “I just want you to be safe, that’s all.”
“I took care of myself for years before I got in with the Mayhews, you know. And most of my assignments are prime examples of perfect execution. Last night was a random clusterfuck in an otherwise beautiful model of statistical success.” Last night bothered him for a number of reasons, but the biggest one was how ineffectual he had been, how quickly he’d been relegated to just another objective for Rio instead of managing the operation himself.
Rio glanced over at him. “You went to college, didn’t you?”
“Berkeley. I majored in General Studies.”
Rio nodded slightly. “A little bit of everything, huh?”
“A broad knowledge base has come in handy with clients over the years.” And Devon’s eidetic memory ensured that he didn’t lose what he learned.
“I can see that.”
Devon bet he could. Rio tried to give the impression that he only cared about weapons and their many, extremely creative uses, but Devon knew better. No man so heavily fixated on death would bother with Maggie, who was the antithesis of broody introspection. Rio spoke Italian with ease, he sang in Spanish when he thought no one was listening, and Devon was sure he had seen the man reading Latin without batting an eye. He was imposingly tall but impressively gentle at times, and then there was the whole “I-can’t-be-affected-by-demons, yes-that-includes-you-Devon” thing he had going. Devon had never met anyone else who was just simply…immune to him. Who couldn’t even be bothered to give him a once over when he was projecting all of his potent allure at him. Rio slept with Devon because he chose to, because at times like last night, Devon needed it. Rio was a man of logic and efficiency, not appetites. If Devon hadn’t once seen him bleed, he would’ve suspected Rio was an android. Even now, that wasn’t entirely off the table.