What amplified his nerves was the silence. He hadn’t gotten a single text from Danica, and the closer they got to the meeting with no word, the more the pit inside his stomach grew. If she didn’t show for this meeting… His mind buzzed. The neon sign for Peppermill Lounge glared at them, even though the flashing lights looked less impressive during the day.
“Where’s your girl?” Liz asked when they approached. She nudged him in the side. “I thought she’d be here jawing off and making sure her hard work got delivered into the right hands.”
Trevor shrugged, staring ahead to avoid Liz’s discerning stare. “She skipped out this morning, but I haven’t heard from her since.”
“My bet is she’s waiting inside,” Liz responded, even though her tone didn’t have an ounce of confidence behind it.
“Gloating, you mean,” Jett piped in, slinking beside them with the grace of a shadow. “I can’t imagine that woman doing anything as paltry as waiting.”
Trevor snorted, jamming his hands into his pockets. The nerves didn’t die down, but Liz and Jett both did their damndest to fight the fight with him. The shadow of the lounge fell over them, at least twenty degrees cooler than walking under direct sunlight out here. Sweat beaded on his brow, more pronounced once he stepped out from under the glowing ball of hate in the sky.
Kieran didn’t waste any time—he grabbed the door and entered. Renn swept in behind him, maintaining an unusual level of quiet, probably because he held the mirror. Out of the crew, they’d agreed Trevor was the last person who should be walking around with it, what with the bounty hanging over his head like one of the flashing Vegas signs.
The interior of Peppermill Lounge was all classic kitsch, the vibe he’d expected from Vegas rather than the slick monstrosities along the Strip. Neon lights lined the bar in blues and pinks, and cherry blossom trees craned over the patrons, interspersed between the circular booths. Stained glass lampshades hung from every fixture, and the low chatter murmured through the place with a steady pulse.
“Kincaid’s supposed to be waiting for us in the lounge,” Kieran directed, striding across the linoleum with purpose. Trevor sucked in a shaky breath as he followed. Once they handed over the mirror here, Leo Kincaid would be delivering the killing blow to Alberich’s reputation. Their part to play in this whole escapade would be over, and the waiting game would begin.
Where the restaurant section decked out in all cool blues and pinks, the lounge created a different atmosphere. Cozy red cushions circled around tables with inky pools in the center, and a vibrant, flickering flame lay in the middle. The fire dancing amid the water was pure Otherworld, and Trevor felt like he’d stepped through the veil, even though they were still smack in the center of the human realm.
Trying to find Leo Kincaid wasn’t hard. Few loitered here during the day, and Alberich’s business partner leaned back along one of the circular booths, his arms sprawled out on either side. The yaksha had pale green skin and golden eyes the same color as the flames flickering before him. The moment he caught sight of them, his grin revealed sharp fangs and even sharper dimples. Kincaid stood from his seat, towering over most of them from sheer height and broad shoulders that strained the seams of his pin-perfect striped suit. If anyone could give the redcaps a run for their money, it was this guy.
Trevor scanned around the room, and his heart sank. Danica was nowhere in sight.
“About time you arrived,” Kincaid said upon approach, his voice low and rich. “I hadn’t heard word from your business associate, and I’d begun to worry you were going to stand me up.”
Ice filtered through his veins. Once Danica claimed a target, she’d proved to be relentless no matter who got caught in the backlash. From the start, her goal had been to take Alberich down—so if she wasn’t at the meeting she’d orchestrated herself, something must’ve happened.
Liz cast him a worried glance, but he just offered a grim nod in response. They had already arrived with the mirror. They needed to see this through.
“Important thing is, we’ve got the item you requested,” Kieran said, standing before him with his arms crossed. “So, are we going to deal, or what?”
Kincaid lifted a brow and rapped his knuckles onto the tabletop. “Straight to the point aren’t you. Why don’t you sit, have a drink, and we’ll discuss this like we’re civilized.”
Renn shrugged and strode forward. “I’ll take a drink.”
Kincaid scanned him over, his tongue tracing over his bottom lip as he looked. “I’ll gladly buy you one.”
Renn’s gaze sparked with interest, and a wicked grin rose to the satyr’s lips. Of course, because in the middle of an important business deal, their drummer was thinking about sex. Trevor strode past them to take a seat on the cushions. If he stood any longer, he didn’t know if his legs would hold him up. The moment he’d strode in and Danica wasn’t here, the ground vanished beneath him and he was falling, falling, falling.
Kincaid slid into the other side of the booth to take a seat, and Renn followed him, inching in closer than necessary. Renn spread his arms along back on the booth so that his one arm lingered right by Kincaid. When the yaksha CEO who could crush them with a single transaction glanced his way, their intrepid satyr flashed him a sultry smile. Jett inched in beside Renn, keeping an ample amount of distance as he rolled his eyes. Kieran and Liz squeezed in on Trevor’s side, both of them flashing him glances like he might bolt at any moment. Their nerves buzzed as loud as his.
Within moments, the waitress jotted down their drink orders and scurried off. Renn leaned in close to Kincaid, murmuring something into the man’s ear that had the CEO grinning. Jett’s gaze never strayed from the shadows inside the lounge. Trevor brimmed with silence, and he’d checked his phone at least a dozen times since they sat down, the glare of the screen mocking him.
The waitress plunked a whisky on the rocks in front of him, and he didn’t wait to start drinking. The smoky liquid scorched his throat, and he downed it faster than normal until the glass lay empty. Trevor plunked the glass onto the table with a click that resounded through the air.
“We’ve had our drinks,” Trevor said, giving Kincaid an arch look. The sooner they left here, the sooner Trevor could head to Danica’s hotel room. “So, let’s talk this mirror.”
Kincaid pursed his lips and lifted his scotch and soda in salute. “Message received, you aren’t a fan of pleasantries. Makes me miss our leannan sidhe friend all the more.”
Trevor’s stomach twisted. That made the both of them. He could imagine her there, chattering Kincaid’s ear off, quick, flashy smiles and some witty words sprinkled in their conversation. Danica lived for those types of situations—the PR slickness she excelled at. Meanwhile, he skated on raw, rusted nerves every second Alberich remained free to prowl.
Renn tugged off the rucksack he carried, slipping it between the two of them. “We’ve got the goods here.”
“Now I’d like to know what you plan on doing with the mirror,” Kieran interrupted, his golden gaze as sharp as Kincaid’s. “What even is it?”
Leo Kincaid pulled up the rucksack and peeked in. His flame eyes flashed in appreciation, and he let out a low whistle. “I had a hard time believing you retrieved this. From everything I’ve heard, he set some impossible security standards.”
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Trevor responded, a glacier coolness in his voice. The man needed to get to the point or he’d reach over the table and throttle him.
“What it is doesn’t matter. This mirror doesn’t belong to Alberich,” Kincaid said, drumming his fingers on the countertop. The firelight danced across his carved features. “However, the owner happens to be in the upper echelons of the Court and would like to know who stole their item in the first place. We’re going to give them that intel, including Alberich’s official seal on the document.”
Trevor crooked a brow. Impersonating an official seal wasn’t just a forgery of words—it involved an imprint of the person’s es
sence. This endeavor hadn’t been a snap of the fingers for Kincaid. He must’ve been planning his business partner’s demise for some time.
“And what guarantee do we have that you’re not going to run with this artifact and sell it to the highest bidder?” Jett asked, ever-present caution in his tone.
“Because I’m giving you this,” Kincaid said, reaching into his pocket. He passed Kieran a small oak box with beveled edges.
Kieran lifted the top open with a creak, and his eyebrows rose. “You’re handing us your own self-destruct button?”
“You’ve got my official seal as well. If I don’t uphold our agreement, you can feel free to use it however you see fit.” Kincaid’s smoothness crawled under his skin, but Trevor couldn’t argue the fair exchange. If the yaksha didn’t follow through, he wouldn’t hesitate to screw over the cocky bastard who’d worked with his former master for years. Even if Renn was a hot minute from crawling all over the man.
Kieran shut the top of the box and dragged it off the table. Liz swallowed the last dregs of her JD, and Jett polished off his pint. Trevor was ready to leap out of the booth since he’d already leapt out of his skin. He nudged Kieran and Liz to push them out, and all three hopped from the seats. Trevor stood facing Kincaid on the opposite side of the flickering fire, watching as the flames danced to an undulating rhythm. Kieran gripped the box tight and lined up beside him, clapping a hand on Trevor’s shoulder.
“We’ll find her,” he murmured. Because of course, Kieran would say that. The man possessed the sort of warm heart most Seelie and Unseelie could only wish for. Jett reached across Renn to offer Kincaid a handshake, ever the polite operator. Renn leaned in, and Leo Kincaid whispered something into his ear, earning a wicked smirk from the satyr. Trevor didn’t miss the business card Kincaid pressed into Renn’s palm before they exited.
Trevor heaved a sigh. At least one of them had enjoyed this meetup. The rest looked like they’d emerged from an off-tune symphony.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Kincaid called while they headed toward the exit. “I’ll let you know once the plan’s in motion.”
Kieran stuck a hand in the air to acknowledge, offering a brief wave as they stepped up to the thick door.
Once they stepped out into the blazing Vegas sun, Kieran sagged against the wall. “I wanted to punch the fucker from the moment I met him.”
“I just wanted to fuck him.” Renn shrugged, his dark eyes dancing with mirth. He cast a glance back to the door as if he could X-ray through the walls.
“We know,” Jett muttered. “I was ready to place a bucket beneath you to collect the drool.”
“Anyone else feel like that was all too easy?” Liz piped up, her arms crossing over her chest as she cast a stubborn look to Ky.
“Yeah,” Trevor responded, his hands balled into fists inside his pockets. His throat dried with the panic that descended with every following minute he heard no word from Danica.
“Go, look for her,” Kieran said. “We’ll grab lunch and meet you back at the RV.”
Trevor swallowed the lump in his throat, not able to do more than nod. He took off like the scorching sun set him ablaze as he headed in the direction of Danica’s hotel. With every step forward, the dread twisted tighter inside. He couldn’t lose her, yet he feared he already had.
Chapter Twenty
The light-up red awnings of Fremont Hotel and Casino blinked and flashed in front of Danica, and in her current state of unease, they made her want to vomit.
Leaving Trevor this morning marked up there on the ‘hardest things she’d ever done’ list, along with leaving behind their pet Chupacabra and throwing out her lucky pair of Docs. She scratched at her wrists, trying to ignore the chill that slithered through her even in this intense heat. She stepped into the shadows under the main entrance before she followed the length of the building in search of the red door.
She would be showing up empty-handed. Smart plan on her part. The one thing she grasped onto was the slim hope Alberich might be willing to swap out prisoners. Even in the face of imprisonment that terrified her, a life that still haunted Trevor, Danica would volunteer to take Lenora’s place.
Every step forward had Danica tightening the lock on the box she’d stuffed any residual thoughts into. Otherwise, she’d be screaming in mindless panic right now. Otherwise, her knees would give out beneath her and the shakes would overtake at the memory of Trevor lying there in the bed when she’d left. His eyes were closed in slumber, the soft swell of his chest mesmerizing. For once, he seemed at peace, like the stained-glass shards of his past had been healed.
Yet she’d pulled away from the hickory and the heat that soothed her own mottled heart. She’d slipped on her heels and marched out the RV toward a future in a cage.
Honks sounded all around from the busy street, and the crowds crawled everywhere here, murmurs and shouts intermingling with the rest of the ever-present ding-ding-dings of Vegas’s slot machines. Danica stuck to the sidelines, skimming her numbed fingertips across the tiled exterior. She scanned for the red door Crags told her about.
Part of her, an ugly, loathsome part, wished she wouldn’t find it. That she could return to Trevor and bask in the moments with him, the sunlit corridors she’d spent her whole life searching for.
Yet she’d never be happy if she’d let go of her sister when she needed her the most.
Under one of the big theater style billboards interspersed across the awnings, Danica spotted a small red door that looked like part of the scenery—a utility entrance at best.
Danica’s breath stuck in her throat, and her palms broke into a cold sweat. Even though she hadn’t given her legs the order to move, she found herself walking in that direction. No one wandered around the door or even glanced at it, one of the surefire indicators something fae this way came. Her hand rested on a rusted old handle, one that looked worn even to her eyes. She bored holes into the door in front of her, frozen.
This might be the last glimpse of the sun she’d get, and she wasted it on the searing rays of a Vegas morning surrounded by throngs of fanny-packed tourists and college age kids slumming through the streets as they nursed massive hangovers. Danica shook her head. Kind of them to give her a stunning sight to remember. Maybe she was better off inside a cage. A tinny, metallic taste bloomed in her mouth even as she swallowed her lies.
Danica pulled the door open and entered.
Rich, perfumed air greeted her when she went inside. The ripple of the veil to the Otherworld tugged at her skin as she took the first couple of steps down the long corridor lined by velvet runners. Globe lights gleamed from metal claws on either side, a taste of the Old World that didn’t belong amidst the Vegas glitz.
No one leapt out to greet her while she wandered down the hall, but her skin crawled as if someone stared at her from every shadow, every crack in the wall. Danica quickened her pace toward the end of the hall where amber beams filtered in from an adjacent chamber.
Midway through the corridor, a hobgoblin appeared in front of her.
The creature sidled up a few steps to close the distance between them, the dim lighting deepening the wrinkles in its bumpy skin and highlighting the sharpened, grey teeth. “Danica Maslanka, I’d be happy to escort you to speak with the Master.” The hobgoblin’s scrunched features shifted when he looked up to her before offering a bow.
“Your master can suck a dick,” Danica responded, balling her hands into fists at her side. Her nails bit into her palm, the only indication of fear she let slip. “Let’s pay him a visit though. We’re overdue for a chat.”
The hobgoblin didn’t bother shuffling off to take the lead. Instead, he locked eyes with her and snapped his fingers. A second later, Danica’s insides churned like she’d eaten a rotten burrito, and they’d landed in what appeared to be a large hall, all oaken rafters and cream walls. A long table stretched the length, and at the end sat a loathsome figure, the man she’d been avoiding all this time.
Bloodred eyes stared at her, Alberich’s gaze unwavering. The man was one of the sidhe with myriad abilities at his control, and despite the bumpy ridges along the curves of his face, the slashing arcs of his browline, and the loathsome core of his character, the man exuded pure nobility. His fingers drummed along the top of the massive wooden table, and he sat stiff-backed in a metal-tipped, ornate chair, like the king of his stupid castle.
“You’re late,” Alberich said, his rich voice echoing through the room. He twisted his metal cuff-links, accents on a gray tailored suit he wore. She’d never seen him in anything but business attire.
“Is it morning?” Danica shot back, passing the hobgoblin as she approached. “Oh wait, it is. I’m still in the clear. If you wanted specifics, you should’ve given them.”
Alberich’s lips quirked into a smile, one that made her tense. This was the man she’d be bartering her sister’s continued existence with. It was best not to anger him.
“Then I presume you did at least catch the memo on what I want returned?” he said, pinning her with his stare.
Danica lifted her chin to stare him square in the eyes. If he wanted to keep her as a pet, she’d make him regret this day. After all, few had learned how to be as obnoxious as her. “I couldn’t get it from them,” she said. Her voice didn’t tremble.
Alberich’s brows furrowed, but the wan look on his face didn’t alter. “So you arrived to what purpose?” he asked.
“You gave me until today to bring the mirror to you, or my sister’s life was in jeopardy,” Danica responded, her nails biting into her palms so hard she bled. “I’m here to offer a trade. Lenora’s life for mine. If you’re going to try and use one of us as leverage, I’m the better option.”
“Come now, Danica. I thought you were a smarter girl,” Alberich near purred, those bloodred eyes glowing. He didn’t stand from his seat, but he lifted two fingers and gestured. “I might consider bartering with a business associate, but my dear, you not only owe me money but also the prized possession you stole.”
Hypnotizing Beat Page 17