Werewolf in Las Vegas

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Once she was gone, Mr. Thatcher squared his shoulders as if preparing for a blow. “If you choose to fire me, sir, I completely understand.”

  “I’m not going to fire you, Mr. Thatcher, but I need to know from you and Giselle what happens next. I run a large business, and when we have a security issue, we fix it. I’ve heard a little about a council and some monitoring, but that seems too simplistic and easy. What’s the real scoop?”

  Giselle put a hand on his arm. “You and Cynthia are in no danger. I promise you that.”

  “Certainly not!” Mr. Thatcher looked horrified at the idea. “I would lay down my life for you and Cynthia. Not that it will be necessary,” he added quickly.

  “That’s what I need to know.” Luke fought to stay calm. “Personally, I can take care of myself, but if anyone plans to harm my sister, there will be hell to pay.”

  “They won’t,” Giselle said. “You have my word.”

  He turned to her and found love and certainty in those green eyes. He was vastly reassured. “Then if we’re not going to be killed, how will you deal with us? We know the secret. Surely we’re considered a security risk.”

  “That’s right.” She met his gaze without hesitation. “That’s why I was so determined that you wouldn’t ever know. But . . . then Bryce said something to me that I wasn’t able to forget. He said if I never told you, I was taking away your ability to choose whether you wanted to be with me or not.”

  “Thank God for Bryce.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “He was right. And I’m fine with whatever has to go on with me. It’s Cynthia I worry about. I know I’m not her parent, but this is different. She was swept up in this by accident, and I want to make sure she’ll be safe.”

  “She will be. We’ll work through it together.”

  “Great. Just tell me how.”

  “I’m not sure yet.”

  Mr. Thatcher cleared his throat. “If I may offer some thoughts . . .”

  Luke glanced over at the man—no, the werewolf—he’d considered a second father. To think he’d always considered Mr. Thatcher a little on the dull side. “Please do,” he said. “I’m counting on you to help me sort this out.”

  “I haven’t had much time to ponder this, but one thing I know—you and Cynthia are completely trustworthy. I’ve watched you both grow into adults who keep your word.”

  “So that’s all I’ll have to do? Promise not to tell? I find that hard to believe.”

  “It’ll be more complicated than that,” Giselle said. “But having three werewolves vouch for your character will go a long way with the council. It’s not as if you’re the first two humans to find out about us, and we’ve managed to keep the secret for centuries.”

  “This council has sole discretion to decide what’s to be done with us?” Luke didn’t appreciate having his fate or Cynthia’s in the hands of others, especially a different species from his own.

  “That makes it sound like some kind of kangaroo court,” Giselle said. “It’s not. It’s a reasonable group. And, as Cynthia said, I’m on it.”

  “That could make a difference. I hope. Unless you’re going to be in trouble for revealing the secret to me, and, by accident, to Cynthia.” He gazed at her. “I’ll say it was all my fault. I hounded you until you told me.”

  “No, no.” Mr. Thatcher waved both hands. “Don’t do that. If anyone needs to be the sacrificial lamb, I’ll volunteer. I knew the two of you were falling in love, and I didn’t do anything to stop it. In fact, once I realized that Giselle might consider changing her views, I encouraged it.”

  Luke gazed at him. “What views?”

  “We can talk about that later.” Giselle clearly wanted to change the subject.

  He decided to let her do that, but he’d get back to it sometime later. He wanted to know her views and how he fit into them, or how he didn’t.

  “Nobody’s to blame for this except me,” Giselle said. “I’m the one who chose to reveal the secret. Bryce encouraged me, but I’m the one who—”

  “What’s that?” Bryce walked into the room. “Are you trying to pin this rap on me, little sister?”

  “Never.” Giselle slipped her hand from Luke’s and stood. “I’m glad you urged me to tell Luke. He deserved to know.”

  “I’m grateful.” Luke stood and walked over to shake Bryce’s hand. “This is a lot to take in, but far better for me to be on information overload than to have no information at all. And no Giselle.”

  Bryce nodded, his gaze understanding. “Obviously I agree with that. I didn’t expect Cynthia to be a part of all this, but maybe that’s a good thing. She’s on the inside with you now, instead of on the outside. Given how close you two are, I think in the long run this will make things easier.”

  “Hm.” Luke regarded Bryce with new respect. “Good thought. I hadn’t considered that.”

  “I told Cynthia the council will probably require that she and her brother sign a nondisclosure agreement,” Bryce continued, “and there could be—”

  “You’ve been discussing this with her?” Luke heard his tone of voice. Way to have a knee-jerk reaction. He backpedaled immediately. “I mean, good. I’m glad you talked to her about it.”

  “Actually, I’ve been discussing it with him.” Cynthia came up behind Bryce and peeked over his shoulder. “I wasn’t born yesterday, big brother. I realize we’re now in the category of those who know too much, so I asked Bryce how werewolves handle a case like ours. I don’t relish getting eliminated. Do you?”

  “Uh, no, I don’t.” He reminded himself that Cynthia’s brain was always working, so naturally she’d figured out the possible consequences of this caper, too. Maybe someday, twenty years from now, he’d shed the last of his protective behavior. Then again, maybe not.

  “The way I look at it,” Bryce said, “Mr. Thatcher can vouch for you and Cynthia, and Benedict can add in his two cents, since he’s known both of you for a long time, too. The council could impose some monitoring for a year or so, but that might be it.”

  “Might?” Luke frowned. “I don’t like these vague terms. Give it to me straight. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Bryce eyed him. “You mean if they decided you pose a definite security risk?”

  “Exactly. Let’s say they don’t trust me, or Cynthia for that matter, despite what you all say. What would they do? Kill us?”

  Bryce sighed. “No, you have to get that out of your head. We don’t kill. But we might need to contain you.”

  “Aha! I knew it. You’d have to catch me, first, though. And my little sister can run like a bat out of hell.”

  “Oh, we would catch you. But don’t worry. It’s not like we have a prison with a dungeon or anything. It’s more like staying at the most luxurious resort in the world.”

  “As if that makes it better,” Luke muttered.

  “But it won’t happen!” Cynthia said. “We have three great character references. If you’ll just let me do the talking, we’ll be fine.”

  From the corner of his eye, Luke saw Giselle cover her mouth as if hiding a smile. Okay, so his little sister was cute and sassy while he was the gloom-and-doom guy in the bunch. But despite all the insights he’d gained recently, he couldn’t turn off that basic urge to keep Cynthia safe. That had been imprinted on him when he was ten, and it wasn’t changing. At this point, he wasn’t entirely convinced that he could keep her safe, and worry churned in his gut.

  “I think we’ve beat that subject to death,” Bryce said. “How about a tour of the werewolf playground? That should cheer everybody up!”

  Luke doubted it would make him any more cheerful, but he was curious. “Let’s do it.” He gestured for Giselle to go ahead of him.

  She leaned toward him as she walked by. “It’ll be okay. I promise.”

  “Hope so.” He believed she’d do everything in her
power to make it so, but she couldn’t possibly have complete control over what would happen.

  As he started to follow her, Mr. Thatcher touched his arm.

  He turned around, and the butler motioned him closer. “There is that perfect solution, the one Cynthia mentioned,” he murmured.

  “I’ve been thinking about that.” They wouldn’t marry. They would mate. The term had a primitive ring to it that both excited and alarmed him.

  “I urge you to think about it.”

  “It’s tough to get my mind around it, Mr. Thatcher. It’s a radical concept. And most of all, I . . . I don’t know if she would want that.” Or if I do. He might have been thinking about it before, but now that he knew she was a different species, he didn’t feel as if he knew her as well as he had imagined. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, but knowing she was a werewolf gave him pause and made him want to know more before he made any decisions.

  “Ask her.”

  Chapter 27

  Giselle was dying to know what Mr. Thatcher was saying to Luke. But instead of meandering and using her sharp hearing to eavesdrop, she walked briskly down the hallway to the locker room. Her footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, which helped to block out their conversation.

  Luke and the butler had a long-standing relationship that had suffered a major shock. Discovering she was a werewolf had obviously been difficult for Luke to accept, but adjusting to Mr. Thatcher’s new identity could be even tougher. She had no right to intrude on their discussion.

  When she walked through the door at the end of the hallway and entered the locker room designed for Weres to store their clothes, Luke and Mr. Thatcher were still in the bar. Benedict, Bryce, and Cynthia stood waiting for her at the opposite end of the locker room, at the entrance to the playground.

  “We wondered if you’d ever get here,” Cynthia said. “Of course you’ve seen it before, but my brother hasn’t. I’d think he’d be dying of curiosity. Where is he?”

  “He and Mr. Thatcher are having a talk.”

  “Oh.” Cynthia glanced at Giselle. “Partly about you, I’ll bet.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “You should have hung back to listen. I would’ve.”

  “Hey!” Bryce pretended to be shocked. “Don’t forget I have to vouch for your sterling character, missy. Don’t be announcing to me that you’re a habitual eavesdropper.”

  Cynthia shrugged. “I’m a little sister. We survive by eavesdropping. Am I right, Giselle?”

  “You’re right, but in this case, it felt wrong. What do you think they might be saying about me?”

  Bryce traded glances with Cynthia before he faced Giselle. “Probably the same thing Cynthia and I talked about while we were activating the systems. I filled her in on the new trend of Weres mating with humans.”

  “Yeah, and I think that’s awesome.” Cynthia’s blue eyes sparkled. “You and Luke should totally do that. I’ve never seen him so crazy in love. So unless you hate his guts, you two should—”

  “I don’t hate his guts.” Giselle had to smile at that. “The opposite, in fact.”

  “You love his guts?” Cynthia laughed. “Don’t mind me. I get like this sometimes.”

  Bryce laughed. “Sometimes? How about twenty-four-seven?”

  “All right, so I’m a nutcase.” Cynthia rolled her eyes. “But seriously, Bryce and I think you and Luke are perfect for each other, and we should know. I’m Luke’s sister and Bryce is your brother. We know you two better than anybody.”

  Giselle was impressed with the logic of that statement. It was absolutely true that Bryce knew her better than anyone, and so far he hadn’t given a thumbs-up to any of the werewolves she’d dated. “But Luke is happy here,” she said. “I don’t want to uproot—”

  “He’s not happy!” Cynthia blew out a breath. “He’s a damned martyr. Hooking up with you would be so good for him. He needs to learn to delegate instead of carrying the whole shebang on his admittedly broad shoulders. He could even delegate to me.”

  “I thought you wanted to dance.”

  “I do, and I will, but I can multitask. I wish you would take my brother up to San Francisco and make an honest man of him, Giselle. He can still be CEO down here if that floats his boat, but I favor an absentee executive, if you get my drift. Eventually I’ll be running this company, anyway, so he can gradually get used to that.”

  Giselle couldn’t help smiling at the audacity of this twenty-two-year-old woman. “I believe you will be the CEO one day. But what about Luke? What’s he destined to do with his life if you take over Dalton Industries?”

  “I see him turning into a country gentleman, maybe buying a winery in Napa. Admitting he’s not the Type A he’s trying to be here in Vegas. And being blissfully content with you in that lovely pastoral setting.”

  “Really?” Giselle stared at her. “I thought he liked the hustle and bustle.”

  “He thinks he should because our dad did. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s been trying very hard to be Angus Dalton 2.0.”

  Giselle burst out laughing. She was still laughing when Luke and Mr. Thatcher came into the locker room.

  Luke gazed at her. “What’s so funny?”

  “Your sister. She cracks me up.”

  “Glad to hear it. Maybe she wants to do standup comedy instead of dancing with the Moonbeams.”

  “You just gave me an idea, brother of mine.” Cynthia executed a quick little soft-shoe. “A dancing standup comic. I’m going to work on that.”

  “I’ll buy a ticket,” Giselle said.

  “There you go.” Cynthia shot her a look of solidarity. “I have my first member of the audience.”

  “You’ll fill the seats,” Bryce said.

  “I’ll second that,” Benedict said with a grin. “Guaranteed. But how about we take a stroll through the playground, now that everyone’s here?”

  Giselle nodded. “Let’s do that.” Her heart felt lighter knowing that Bryce and Cynthia believed in a happy-ever-after for her and Luke. But they could believe that till the cows came home, and if Luke didn’t want anything to do with werewolves, she would lose him.

  If so, she would let him go easily, without drama. He would never know that her heart would be permanently broken. Cynthia and Bryce had only confirmed what she already knew—Luke was her soul mate. No other would do for her.

  Bryce and Cynthia went through the swinging door, designed so that a wolf could open it without difficulty. Mr. Thatcher gestured for Giselle to go next, but she hung back.

  “After you, Mr. Thatcher. Luke and I will bring up the rear.” She didn’t know if he wanted to walk with her or not, but they’d had so little time to speak privately since she’d shifted into wolf form. They should give themselves a chance to talk, however it turned out.

  “Good idea,” Luke said. Before they went through the door, he took her hand again.

  She considered that a positive sign. He’d had a lot to assimilate in a short time, but obviously he wasn’t ready to give her the old heave-ho, or he wouldn’t have laced his fingers so securely through hers.

  They stepped through the door onto an overlook, and his fingers flexed. She wasn’t surprised that he’d react that way. The view was breathtaking, especially considering they were underground.

  Cool, pine-scented air wafted up to them, along with the sound of rushing water and the hoot of an owl. A full moon shone intermittently though clouds scudding across a starry sky. Through the artistry of the playground’s creators, they stood on the edge of a canyon high in the Rocky Mountains on a moonlit night.

  “I’m heading down,” Benedict said. “Watch your step. This place was designed for werewolves, who have excellent night vision. But if you walk carefully, you should be fine. The path is wide enough for two creatures, either Were or human.”

  Giselle took
a deep breath, drawing in the wonder of the place, the same wonder she’d felt when she’d come here years ago. In the midst of a city teeming with noise, lights, and crowds, this retreat existed for the Weres who longed for an escape into a serene forest. The playground was an engineering marvel and a sanctuary for those of a different species. No wonder werewolves everywhere had mourned its loss when a human had gained possession of their special place.

  “I can’t believe this,” Luke murmured. “I can hear crickets.”

  “Werewolf scientists collaborated to make it as authentic as possible, given the technology at the time. It’s updated whenever new designs become available. As we walk along, you’ll hear rustling in the leaves to simulate the movement of night creatures like raccoons and skunks.”

  “How about animatronics? Any fake birds or animals here?”

  “As I understand it, the builders decided that would be an insult to visitors. Our sense of smell would tell us immediately the creatures weren’t real. The sounds provide a more convincing illusion.”

  “Makes sense, now that I know more.” He glanced at the winding path. The others were already several yards in front of them. “Want to take a walk in the woods?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Luke started down the incline at a leisurely pace. “I like that we don’t have to worry about snakes.”

  “They say Harrison Cartwright wanted to create a place where the participants didn’t have to worry about anything and could simply enjoy the ambience. It’s an anxiety-free zone, and werewolves don’t have many of those.”

  “Are Cynthia and I the first humans to see it?”

  “I can’t say for sure. I’d love to tell you that’s true, because it would make this moment even more special, but I doubt you’re the first humans in here. Aidan and Roarke Wallace of the Wallace pack each have human mates, and I have to believe at least one of those couples has been here on vacation.”

  “Is their father the one who’s president of your council?”

  “He is.” She brushed past a pine branch that extended into the path. “Did Mr. Thatcher mention him?” Her stomach tightened. This anxiety-free zone no longer was. Now they would talk about the central issue between them, the one that could bring them together or tear them apart.