And how’s that for messed up?
“What brings you to Tahoe?” the man asks, undaunted by my cool but cordial response. “A beautiful woman like yourself should have a man on her arm.”
Seriously? He’s not even original.
I give him a tight smile, wondering if I should use a little persuasion to get him to leave me alone. First, I’ll try to be tactful—but only one more time. “I’m sorry, I really need to hurry. My friends are waiting for me in the club.”
At least I hope they are. Knowing my luck, I’m probably in the wrong place altogether.
“They won’t mind if you have a drink with me,” he says, nudging closer.
It’s not his sudden proximity that makes me nervous. No, it’s the rush of persuasive magic settling over my skin, tingling in a foreboding way.
He’s Aparian, and I would bet a lot of money he’s not an upstanding Wolf. I have less than half a second to decide how to proceed. I could ignore the magic and walk away, which would let him know I’m Aparian as well…or I could go with him, see if this man is somehow connected to the criminal Finn was speaking of. Because if he is, I need to get Gray the heck out of this place.
“All right,” I say, giving him a doe-eyed look that I hope mimics the look of a girl who’s just been magically coerced.
The man smiles benevolently at me and takes my arm, leading me in the direction of the high-roller tables. He smells like cigars and overpowering, musty aftershave—a genuinely gag-inducing combination.
“Have you ever played blackjack, darling?” he asks as he leads me through the casino.
I glance behind me, in the direction of the club. “I haven’t.”
“Oh, it’s a marvelous game.”
“I thought we were getting a drink.” My words are a little abrupt, so I soften them with a vacant smile.
He squeezes my arm. “We are—while we play blackjack. I’m meeting a few friends myself.”
What the heck is going on? It’s like this man fancies himself to be a James Bond type, collecting women on a whim. I’m just waiting for him to grab the attention of a passing cocktail waitress and order a martini—shaken, not stirred.
The high rollers area is sectioned off with a burgundy velvet rope. There’s an attendant at the entrance making sure no one less than filthy rich steps foot inside.
“Mr. Clement.” He bows his head like the man escorting me is some sort of king, unclips the rope, and allows us to enter.
“I don’t think I got your name, darling,” Mr. Clement says as he leads me to a table that has three other players and a dealer waiting.
“Alexandra,” I lie smoothly, giving him my middle name. “My friends call me Lexie.”
“Then I’ll call you Lexie because we’re going to be good friends. And you can call me Morris.”
I’m seriously starting to doubt the wisdom of my decision. It seemed like a good idea at first, but now I realize that if this man is a Fox, my magic is basically worthless against him. Also, there’s an excellent chance his friends are Foxes as well.
Morris pulls out my chair and introduces me to his companions, all of them in their late twenties to mid-thirties. One openly leers at me, another ignores me completely, and the last gives me a smile that’s almost friendly.
I’m growing so uneasy, I don’t catch any of their names—a foolish mistake.
Pay attention, Madeline.
“What will you have to drink?” Morris asks me, still as attentive as ever. He holds up his hand, snapping for a waitress. Disappointing me, he orders a scotch on the rocks.
“Sparkling water,” I say, knowing I don’t want anything dulling my senses right now. “With lime.”
He smiles and leans in a little closer. “You seem like the type of girl who would appreciate a nice sangria. Ours is excellent.”
My ears perk up. “Yours?”
The man beside Morris—the one who must feel I am so far beneath him he doesn’t even bother to look my way—laughs. It’s not a friendly sound.
Morris grins. “Why Lexie, don’t you know? This is my casino.”
Bingo. This is him.
It must be. How many Aparians own casinos? Surely not that many.
Or maybe Aparians own all the casinos—I just don’t know. But my gut tells me this is the man Finn was speaking of.
“I’ll try the sangria,” I say just to be agreeable.
He nods, probably satisfied that I’m so easily swayed.
Once the men have put in their drink orders, the dealer begins passing out cards. I observe him, wondering if he’s doing anything shady, but his hands move too quickly for me to tell.
“You need to take care of your arm candy,” the man who still hasn’t looked my way says to Morris after the cards are dealt.
What am I? A decoration? Something female to adorn the table?
“Ah, yes,” Morris says. “She’s so quiet, it’s easy to forget I haven’t already done it.”
I’m right here, you arrogant a—
“Lexie, darling.” Morris turns to me. “My associates and I are going to have a conversation now. You will sit there, nice and quiet, and you’re not going to remember any of it. Do you understand? When you look back on the evening, you’ll recall sitting with us and watching nothing more than a few rounds of blackjack.”
I blink at him, feeling the heavy weight of persuasion blanket me. It coaxes me to obey before the feeling merely fades. How am I supposed to respond? Finally, I say, “All right.”
“There’s a good girl.”
It takes everything in me not to scoff and walk away—or better, wait for my drink so I can toss it in his face and then scoff and walk away.
After the spell is done, the men visibly relax. The man on the end lets his gaze travel over me again. After a few moments, it lands on my chest…and stays there. Thank goodness for well-covering halter tops.
“Where’d you find this one?” the man asks like I’m not even here. “She’s hot.”
Okay, he’s seriously creepy. His hair is white-blond, and he’s built like a string bean—tall and slender. I try to keep my face impassive as he watches me, but he’s practically salivating.
“She was headed to the club,” Morris answers.
A slow smirk grows on the man’s smarmy face. “How long you keeping her?”
What does that mean?
“I’m not sure.” Morris studies his cards. “Probably no more than a night.”
I bite my tongue—hard. I don’t care who this man is, or how much information I might be able to glean from him, if he tries to persuade me to go to bed with him, I’m stabbing him in the eye with a cocktail fork.
“She said she has friends waiting for her,” Morris continues, “and I don’t want them to cause a commotion by filing a missing person report—not this soon after my release. You know the Royal Guild’s keeping tabs on me right now.”
The crazy-eyed man scoffs. “Curtis said Finn has it covered. Do whatever you want with her—the guild’s going to turn a blind eye. And after you’re finished, give her to me.”
I tense, but no one notices…no one except the man who hasn’t looked at me yet. But as soon as he sees me jerk, he casually turns my way.
His eyes are blue. Not stormy blue like Gray’s, more of a deep indigo. He’s a bit younger than the others, probably in his late twenties, and his hair is dark ash brown. Unlike the man at the end, he doesn’t look insane.
But he’s just as intimidating.
Something passes between us, something uncomfortable. He narrows his eyes, perhaps feeling it too. It’s like our magic is connecting, magnetized—but I can’t tell whether it’s attracting or pushing away. I’ve never felt anything like it, but it needs to stop.
“We’ll see,” Morris says, not noticing his friend’s sudden interest in me. “Speaking of causing a commotion, what’s your teller count up to now? Four? Five? Who was it today?”
The creepy man grins. “I took the day off.”
Oh my goodness.
I’ve found the pixie. He’s right there, at the end of the table. Ogling me.
“You can consider yourself finished,” Morris says, sounding almost bored. “Never mind the deal Curtis struck with Lord Finnegan—I don’t need the guild sniffing around.”
I freeze, a forced smile etched on my face.
“They already are,” the dark-haired, blue-eyed man says, still watching me.
I try to look bored as if the conversation means nothing, but my mind is racing. I need to find Gray. I need to find him now—before these men realize I’ve been listening this whole time and they decide to finish me off and toss me in a dumpster full of dead bank tellers.
“York saw Gray Tate’s team nosing around several banks earlier.”
Morris swears and shoves his cards away from him.
“He’s got a new girl with him,” the blue-eyed man continues, and I can still feel his gaze on me. “A blond.”
Crapitty crap crap crap.
“Is she hot?” the pixie asks, grinning, too stupid to realize what his friend is hinting at.
The man finally looks away, breaking the weird connection. “York didn’t say.”
“Come on, Rafe. You’re holding out on me,” the pixie whines.
Rafe asks the dealer to hit him, and then he frowns at the new card. “All I know is she’s immune to persuasion.”
“Another Wolf?” Morris asks, growing concerned.
“Worse.” Again, Rafe looks right at me. “I think she’s a Fox.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Gray has a Fox on his team?” Morris demands, clearly surprised.
Before Rafe can answer, I raise my hand and clear my throat, almost too terrified to talk.
Morris looks over, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Yes?”
“I have to use the ladies’ room,” I say, trying to look as mentally absent as possible.
“Oh.” He frowns like he’s now mildly inconvenienced by my presence.
“Finished with her?” Rafe asks, pushing away from the table. “Want me to take care of her for you?”
I’m pretty sure my heart stops beating. Or at least it feels like it does before it leaps into overdrive. Now it’s racing like a greyhound after a stuffed bunny. He’s going to take me out back, behind the casino, and that will be that.
Instead of my life flashing before my eyes, a single thought makes its way to the forefront of my frenzied brain. Who’s going to feed Charles if I’m dead?
Morris waves him off. “Yes, that’s fine. See that she finds her friends. I’m not in the mood to play with her tonight.”
“You got it.” Rafe offers his hand to assist me from the stool.
Relief washes over me in rolling waves. I almost gasp out loud, but I clamp my lips so I don’t clue the rest of them into the fact that I’ve been alert through the whole conversation.
I follow Rafe, determined to look like a walking, talking doll…the kind who was totally under a persuasive spell that entire time.
We leave the high-rollers section, twist through a maze of roulette wheels and poker tables, and then Rafe casually strolls to a fountain in the middle of the casino. He sits on the ledge, turning toward me. “What’s your name?”
“Lexie.”
He gives me a wry smile. “Really? Because I could have sworn your name was Madeline Bennet.”
My eyes widen a fraction of an inch, but other than that, I do a pretty good job of looking confused. “Who’s Madeline Bennet?”
“The newest member of Gray Tate’s team, the girl fresh out of finishing school who’s supposed to make him walk the line.”
How does he know all this?
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says.
“I’m not?” I ask, still playing dumb.
“Finn was supposed to keep his brother out of Tahoe. I bet Finn doesn’t know where you are, does he?”
I shift my weight from my right leg to my left. “I don’t know anyone named Finn.”
Rafe gives me a slightly amused but extremely intimidating smile. “Cute.”
Before I can stop him, he snatches my clutch and pulls out my phone.
“Hey!”
“Unlock,” he says with authority, bypassing my security code with a burst of magic that reveals he too is a Fox.
To my great horror, the phone does as he asks. He has my contacts pulled up before I can attempt to wrestle the cell back.
“Let’s look at your call record, shall we?” he says, holding me back with one hand as he skims over the listings. “Gray, Gray, Finn, Gray, Finn, Finn…” he looks up. “Well, look at that. It appears you know both a Gray and a Finn.”
Yep. I’m done for. At least my outfit is cute. I’d hate to be wearing something ugly in the crime scene pictures that will be all over the news tomorrow. If someone finds me at all.
Rafe lets his eyes wander over me, and they glimmer with detached curiosity. “Are you sleeping with them both?”
I rip my phone out of his hand and hiss, “I’m not sleeping with either of them.”
He gives me a sly smile. “Does that mean you’re available? Because I believe Trent was interested.”
I step forward, drawing myself up to my full height. With my heels, it puts my eyes about level with his chin. “I take it Trent is the bank-teller-murdering pixie?”
“That would be him.”
I’ve officially had more than enough of this conversation.
“Who are you?” I demand. “And how do you know so much about us?”
“My name is Rafe Wilhelm, and I work for the Royal Guild.”
His answer leaves me fumbling for a response. Finally, I say, “What do you mean you work for the guild?”
“I mean they transferred me here two years ago, when your good friend Morris was first arrested, to infiltrate his group and keep tabs on things in his absence.”
“Why?”
It seems like overkill for an establishment that’s worst crime was swindling humans—especially when their leader was spending a much-earned vacation in the Dungeon. After all, humans cheat each other all the time.
“They suspect Morris is involved with the Entitled.”
It’s the same temperature as a moment ago, but I shiver, suddenly chilled. The idea of being so close to the very people who’d like nothing more than to open the thresholds again and cause complete chaos doesn’t sit well with me.
I mull his words over. “You’re the anonymous person—the man who called in the tip about Trent.”
He crosses his arms and gives me a closed-lip, almost pleased smile. “That’s right.”
“I suppose you enjoyed your little bonus.” Then I frown. “Finn doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”
“He hasn’t the slightest idea—it was his uncle who gave me the assignment. Imagine my surprise when I found out Finn cut a deal with Morris’s group.”
Immediately, I shake my head. “No, that’s not possible.”
Amusement lights Rafe’s dark blue eyes. “Don’t you know? The guild’s golden boy is a compulsive gambler. He’s lost every penny and has no way to cover what he owes Morris—which is around seventy-five grand at the moment.”
I purse my lips, refusing to believe him.
“He had to repay his debt somehow,” Rafe continues, not noticing or caring that I might be hyperventilating. “So he and Morris’s right-hand man—a fine gentleman by the name of Curtis—worked out a deal, all while Morris was lounging in his twelve-foot by twelve-foot cell. Morris and his men can run amok, doing whatever the hell they please, and Finn will cover for them until all his debts are forgiven.”
If that’s true…
I step back, my brain whirling as I put the pieces together. That’s the real reason Finn didn’t want Gray getting mixed up with Morris.
“Call Finn,” Rafe urges, enjoying himself too much. “See what he does when he finds out you’re in Tahoe.”
�
��If you’re so sure of this, why don’t you go to the guild?”
Only now does Rafe look frustrated. “Because I don’t have solid proof, not yet. I’ve been waiting for Morris to get out of jail, hoping there will be more correspondence between the two. I can’t accuse Finn of something I can’t back up.”
“I don’t understand. When you called about Trent, were you hoping Gray would step in?”
“No.” Suddenly, he looks at me as if I’m a great big pain in the posterior. “I thought they’d send some no one in to get the moron pixie out of my hair. You being here is more than a little inconvenient. Now Morris and his men are going to be on their best behavior, and it will take me even longer to come up with the evidence I need to prove Finn is manipulating the system for his own benefit.”
“And what about the Entitled?”
His gaze wanders over my face, and he narrows his eyes. “That’s none of your concern.”
We stare each other down for several long moments, but it’s obvious he’s not going to give in. Finally, I look away. “Now what?”
“Now you’re going to walk into that club and pretend we never met. If you keep your mouth shut, I’ll send you a text on Monday, telling you which bank Trent’s at. You lead Gray there, arrest the idiot pixie, and get back to Denver.”
“I thought Morris said there would be no more teller impersonations.”
Rafe snorts. “Trust me—there will be.”
“What about Finn?”
He stands abruptly, closing the distance between us. “He’s a criminal. Do you understand? A thief, and in a roundabout way, a murderer. By promising amnesty, he’s allowed Trent a free pass. And if you think killing a few bank tellers is the worst of what Morris’s men will do, you’re not as bright as I hoped.”
“And what if I don’t believe you? What if I think you’re making all this up in hopes that I’ll lead Gray and the team away from Tahoe? What if you aren’t working for the guild at all?”
He leans down, meeting me at eye level, and very slowly says, “Call Finn. See what his reaction is when you tell him where you are.”
Guild of Secrets (Obsidian Queen Book 1) Page 12