by Sarah Fine
“There wasn’t much he could do about it.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Grandpa’s got only a few months to live. It’s lung cancer.”
He gave me an uncertain look. “Lung cancer? You’re sure?”
“I don’t think there’s any doubt.”
“Damn. I’m sorry.” He folded his large hands in front of him. “If I know him, though, you’re on his mind every minute of every day.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “He wouldn’t want his granddaughter mixed up with Frank Brindle or anyone who works for him.”
“That’s the West Coast boss?”
Jack nodded. “Are you sure he’s the one who’s got your fiancé?”
“That’s what Asa thinks. Apparently there was this agent who was skulking around in the Midwest—his name’s Reza?”
Jack grimaced. “Reza’s a Strikon. Nasty piece of work. You’d do well to steer clear of him.”
“I can’t—not if he took Ben.”
“But why would Brindle’s chief agent take your fiancé? Didn’t you say he’s got no juice?”
“Yeah, but he owed a lot of money to the Chinatown boss.”
Thick wrinkles creased Jack’s forehead. “But Reza only gets involved with big game.” He scratched at his beard. “I’m having trouble understanding why he of all people would kidnap a normal from a small town outside his boss’s territory. It doesn’t play.”
I couldn’t really disagree. “That’s the information we have. We got it from the mistress of the Chinatown boss.”
“She just casually gave you that kind of intelligence?”
“No. We’d delivered some magic to her, and then we agreed to bring the healing magic here to her mom.” Well, Asa had agreed on my behalf, but whatever. “Asa’s been helping me find Ben in exchange for my assistance on jobs like the one we just did.”
Jack plucked a toothpick from the dispenser on the table and twirled it in his fingers before slipping it between his lips. “Has Asa been your only source of information about where your fiancé’s been taken?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly.
“And you’re sure that’s why he’s come here.”
“Yeah?”
He chewed on his toothpick for a while. “Do you have any idea how valuable a strong reliquary is, Mattie?”
“What do you mean by ‘valuable’?”
“I mean every boss in the world wants a good one. One who won’t break. One who has control. One who can conceal the magic from anyone. That’s how Howie was, and it seems like the gift runs in the family.”
“What are you suggesting, Jack?”
“I’m saying that you need to be very careful, young lady. You’re in the territory of the most powerful boss in the country, and you’re hanging with a man whose reputation is that he’d sell his mother to the highest bidder if he had the chance.”
I winced, knowing that Asa and Ben’s mom had abandoned them when they were young. Ben had been only two, but Asa had been four. There was a chance he remembered her. “That’s not a very nice thing to say about someone.”
“Based on what I’ve heard, he’s earned it,” Jack said in a gravelly voice. “And you need to make sure he’s not in this to sell you to the highest bidder. It’s not easy to get out once a boss has his teeth in you.”
“I can’t just go home without even trying to find out if this is a good lead. I owe it to Ben.”
“I feel you. And unlike naturals, conduits and reliquaries can evade magic sensors like Asa if we need to, as long as we’re not toting magic around in our pockets.” He gestured at me. “Or our bodies, as it were.”
“Then I could get away from him if I needed to. Good to know.”
“Always,” he said as he tossed a few twenties on the table, more than enough to pay for our meal, with a generous tip on top. “Make Howie proud, girl.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “But if you need help, you call me. Anytime, okay? I owe your grandpa a favor or three.”
I accepted the card with gratitude. “Thanks, Jack.”
He walked me back to the parking lot, where Asa was waiting, fidgety and watchful as usual. We said our good-byes, and Jack threw me one last measured look as I climbed into the van.
Asa grabbed something from his cupholder and tossed it into my lap. It was a penny. “For your thoughts,” he said as we pulled out of the lot and headed down the street.
“Just wondering what we’re doing next,” I murmured, slipping my hand into my pocket to make sure Jack’s card was still safely tucked inside.
Asa drummed his hands on the wheel. “I checked with a few of my contacts in Vegas, and now I’m dead sure they’ve got Ben.”
“Really?” I squeaked. “He’s alive?”
Asa nodded. “One of my buyers was called to bring in heavy doses of healing and pleasure, and it turned out it was for Ben.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered, tears springing to my eyes. I turned my face toward the window, praying that this wasn’t an elaborate lie. “Did they say how Ben looked? Did they say anything about his heart?”
Asa shifted in his seat. “I was mostly asking whether he was breathing, and he is, apparently. I didn’t inquire much beyond that.”
Mistrust trickled cold down my back. “So what’s the plan?”
“I say we go straight to Vegas. First thing tomorrow. Quickest way to get this done, I think.”
Since I’d talked to Jack, every single thing Asa said seemed sinister. I gripped Jack’s card as if it could keep me safe. “And what will we be doing there?”
Asa slowed to a stop at a red light. He turned to me, the crimson light playing across his chiseled cheekbones. His smile seemed tinged with blood. “We’re going to get dressed up. We’re going to go to a casino. And we’re going to get their attention.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
I woke up to Asa banging on my door—he wanted to get an early start. Really early. It was three in the morning. We drove across the desert terrain and stopped in a tiny town called Green River. Asa’s plan was to leave Gracie with an earth mother–type named Rosie who ran the local magic den. Apparently she owed Asa a favor, but she greeted both him and the dog warmly. Asa gave her a list of instructions and provided Rosie with all of Gracie’s homemade dog treats, her bowls, her bed, her arthritis medication, and her eyedrops.
It was hard to mistrust a man who was clearly so devoted to his dog. I waited outside while Asa shared a long good-bye with Gracie, and stayed silent when he emerged quiet, his eyes a little redder than they had been.
Then we ditched the van. We made a quick stop in another tiny town, Richfield, at a dusty used car lot. Asa had a brief negotiation with a beefy guy named Marty who smelled like he’d just bathed in gin, and we drove away in a gray Subaru Outback with California plates. Asa made yet another stop in the town of Beaver (I kid you not), where we put all of his toolboxes except for one in storage. I peeked over his shoulder as he signed the contract for the locker. According to his ID, he was now none other than Adrian Battlebush of Fresno, California.
“How many of those do you have?” I asked as we drove away.
“As many as I need,” he replied.
We arrived in Vegas just before five, and the sun was like a laser on the windshield as Asa sped into the city. He aimed his finger at a cream-colored hotel called Mistika, which was surrounded by palm trees. “That’s where we’re headed.”
Now that we were here, a restless churning had started in my stomach. Was Ben somewhere in this city? Was he even still alive? I hadn’t let myself consider the alternative, but we were so far from home, and all of Jack’s questions were still spiraling in my mind. “How do you know where to go?”
“Mistika is Frank Brindle’s hub. He runs a lot of his business from there.”
I frowned as Asa took an exit. “So, what—we’re just going to walk in there and announce ourselves? This doesn’t exactly seem like your style.”
“My style?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah. You don’t seem like the go-in-with-guns-blazing kind of guy. You seem more like the skulk-in-dark-alleys type.”
“I don’t skulk.”
I gave him a once-over: the motorcycle boots, his snake hips, the shadow of stubble on his jaw, the crooked angle of his nose, his ever-darting eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes. “You were made for skulking, Asa Ward.”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or hurt.”
“I thought you didn’t care.”
He smirked. “The last thing we want to do is let Reza or any of Brindle’s people control the tempo. I hate surprises. I want to meet them on my terms, not theirs.”
“And what are your terms?”
“We’re going to ask them to give Ben back. Very politely. And we’ll see what they want in return.”
“Won’t that depend on why they took him in the first place? When we first met, you said you had an idea of why. You said the police would never find him if you were right.”
Asa sighed impatiently. “And maybe I do have an idea, but that’s my business.”
“Ben is my business!”
“Ben is a tool,” snapped Asa, and then his lip curled. “In every possible way.”
“Now you’re calling him names. How mature.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Can we stop talking now?” He wrenched the wheel and sped down a ramp into a parking garage, ripped the ticket from the booth operator, and muscled the car into a spot. Then he turned to me, his brown eyes glinting in the semidarkness. “I’m doing my goddamn best for you, Mattie. I’m not telling you everything, because it’s safer for you if you don’t know. What else do you want?”
I want to know I can trust you. “Ben,” I said, my voice breaking.
“Don’t you think I fucking know that already?” he shouted.
When he saw me flinch, he cursed and got out of the car, slamming the door hard enough to shake me in my seat. He stalked to the back and grabbed his duffel, then stood several feet away, waiting for me to catch up. My heart hammering, I pulled my suitcase out and extended its handle, then began to follow Asa toward a set of elevators. After several steps, I paused. “My suitcase wheels aren’t squeaking,” I said quietly.
Asa didn’t stop walking. “I had some WD-40 in the van.”
“Thanks.”
“I couldn’t stand the goddamn noise.” He jabbed the button for the elevator, then gestured at my overstuffed bag. “We’re going to the high-limit lounge tonight. You’ll need something nice.”
“I brought that black dress I wore to the Phan—”
“A lot nicer than that.” The elevator doors slid open, revealing an interior lined with mirrors bordered with some kind of runes, which I guess were supposed to look mystical. Asa waved at a hotel map above the buttons for the floors. “There are shops on two.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me Adrian Battlebush’s Amex.
“Um . . . just so I’m clear, did you steal . . . ?”
“Fuck me,” he muttered, running his hand over his face. “No, Mattie, I did not steal some innocent guy’s identity. It’s my money.”
I pushed the card back at him. “I have my own. I don’t really want—”
He ignored my outstretched hand. “I owe you commission on both jobs we did for Zhi. We’ll take it out of that.” The elevator doors opened, and he exited without a backward glance. I quickly shoved his card into the pocket of my capris and scurried out after him. The lobby was black marble, with glittering mosaics on the walls that reminded me of those tests optometrists use to check if you’re color-blind. The same stylized runes popped out at me everywhere I looked. Orchids wound around trees that sprouted from tiled, humid mini-oases all through the space, making it hard to get a clear view from one end to the other. I could tell from the tension in Asa’s shoulders that he hated it. Or maybe he was already feeling the magic here. Maybe it was already making him sweat.
We got adjoining rooms and rode up the elevator in silence, standing awkwardly next to a couple who were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t seem aware of us at all. I spent my time examining an advertisement for the casino’s magic show. I realized I’d seen the magician before—it was Harvey Mirren, a world-famous hypnotist I’d watched a TV special on a few years back.
I’d always assumed his “victims” were just playing along. Now I suspected I was very wrong. Harvey must be a powerful Knedas, able to put huge audiences under his spell with just a look. Suddenly the walls of the elevator felt very close and tight.
When we reached our rooms, down a hallway painted with murals of misty mountains and lush forests, Asa paused at his door. “I’ll come get you at seven,” he said in a flat voice, then unlocked the door and slammed it behind him.
I stared at his room number, the same stylized font as the runes, and then went into my own room and collapsed on the bed, tired of trying to hold it together. I was shaking with anger and confusion. Was I really closer to Ben here, or was I just stepping into a trap? Was Asa really trying to keep me in the dark because it was safer, or did he just not want me to know what he was really up to?
I had a few hours to poke around on my own, so I freshened up my makeup and headed downstairs to shop. There were guards posted at the entrance to the shopping plaza, their eyes tracing over each guest with interest. I wondered if they were emotion sensors. If they were, they’d know in a second that I had some serious stuff on my mind, so on impulse, I stepped into a restaurant that was tucked behind one of the oases. It was early yet, so there were still seats at the long mahogany bar, and I hopped up on a stool and ordered myself a glass of red wine.
“We’ve got over fifty reds,” said the bartender, a curvaceous brunette with heavily lined eyes. “Want to be more specific?”
“Try the Gaja Barbaresco,” said a deep voice just behind me. I looked up and nearly swallowed my tongue as I beheld one of the prettiest men I had ever laid eyes on. He had these huge dark-brown eyes, the most exquisitely sculpted face, slick black hair, and olive skin. He was wearing a tailored gray suit, and he unbuttoned his jacket as he sat down on the stool next to me. My heart fluttered as he flashed a charming smile. “It has a lovely nose.”
“Nose?” I absently touched mine, and my companion chuckled.
“Yours is certainly lovely, but I was referring to the scent of the wine.”
My cheeks were hot. “Of course. I . . . to be honest, most of the wine I drink is of the cooler variety.”
One of his perfectly shaped black eyebrows arched. “As in chilled? White or sparkling?”
“No, as in Seagram’s.”
He stared at me for a moment, and then it all seemed to click into place, because he threw his head back and laughed, a sound so melodious that it made me smile despite all my worries, and despite the dull pain taking shape at the back of my skull.
“You must give me the pleasure of educating you,” he said, then gestured at the bartender, who immediately brought over two glasses and a bottle of wine.
“Oh—I need a separate tab, though,” I said as the bartender began to walk away.
“Comp it,” said the man next to me, and the bartender nodded.
I eyed my gorgeous wine tutor as he poured. “Um, hi. My name’s Mattie.”
“I am Tavana,” he said, then tapped his glass to mine. “Lift that up and give it a swirl to release the bouquet.”
I did as he suggested, inhaling the tart, fruity scent. “It does smell good.”
“Good?” He made a distressed noise in his throat. “You must do better than that. To really enjoy wine, you must pay attention to nuance, Mattie. You have to open your senses so you detect each flavor note. You cannot enjoy it to its fullest otherwise.” He tilted his elegant, straight nose over the rim of his glass, then inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “Ah. Berries. Vanilla. Leather.”
“Leather?”
His full lips curved into a smile. “A savory note that balances the sweetness.”
I sniffed at
the wine again. “Sure,” I said slowly. “I think I’m picking that up. Can we drink it now?”
He lifted the glass. “By all means.”
He took a generous sip, and so did I. My mouth immediately felt a little too dry, so I took another swig. Tavana’s eyes were half-closed as he swallowed. “There,” he said. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s over my head. But it’s still yummy.” I drank a little more.
Tavana frowned and tilted his head. “I think I may have misunderstood your purpose for coming here.”
“Here?” My heart jolted in my chest. “Oh, I’m just here to gamble.”
“I meant to this bar, before the dinner hour, alone. I simply saw a lovely lady and wanted to share a pleasant drink, but it appears that sipping is not your purpose.”
As he’d been talking, I’d been gulping down my wine, and I’d set my empty glass down by the end of his sentence. He chuckled again. “And there you have it.”
I sagged on my stool. “Sorry. You’re right—I wasn’t really looking for a wine-tasting lesson.”
“What are you looking for, Mattie?”
“To be honest, I don’t really know.”
“Can I do something to make your stay more pleasurable?”
“You work here?”
He nodded. “I’m a concierge of sorts. I’m just not tied to the front desk.”
“Good, because that sounds uncomfortable.” I glanced at the clock that hung at one end of the bar, wishing I had time for a nap, because my dull headache was taking on an edge. But I was supposed to meet Asa in less than an hour. I slid off my stool and smiled at Tavana. “Thanks so much for the wine.”
He leaned on the bar, his gaze lazily drifting up my body as I took a step back. “Thank you for the company, Mattie. I hope you find what you’re seeking.”
I gave him a noncommittal smile and treated myself to one long look at his face, because it really was like a work of art, too pretty to touch. “Me too.” I turned and headed for the shops. The guards nodded at me but didn’t move in my direction. “Point, Mattie,” I whispered as I walked into the first boutique I found.