A Hunter Under the Mistletoe

by Addison Fox

  And if that protection had also become something of a cocoon, well, then, she’d live with that.

  She didn’t do secrets. Or omission. And she’d be damned if she was going to accept a bald-faced lie.

  Rafe might be charming, but he’d continually denied answering her questions about the burning man on the property. And lest he think a few hours in the spa and a fancy dinner would erase what she knew she’d seen, she now had to figure out a way to get answers.

  But first, she’d play the role of ingenue for the evening and flirt a bit with the temptress routine. Stone-cold bitch certainly hadn’t done the trick.

  “This is quite a place you and your family have built.”

  “Thank you.”

  When he said nothing more, she pressed on. “This hotel isn’t more than a decade old, yet your father and grandfather have legendary reputations in Las Vegas.”

  Something almost imperceptible flashed in his gaze and if she weren’t watching him so closely she’d surely have missed it. “We purchased this property years ago but this end of the Strip wasn’t nearly developed enough for our needs. The original Archangel was over on Fremont and the Stavros family managed joint ownership or backing in other properties here on the Strip until we were able to bring our vision fully to life.”

  “That’s all rather patient of you.”

  “A trait my family has in spades.”

  The sommelier arrived, effectively pausing their conversation and Evangeline took a small, unobtrusive pull of air through her nose.

  Patience? Planning? Perhaps bit of world domination tossed in for good measure?

  Who did she work for?

  She’d taken the job on a whim, circumstance driving the decision more than an overt hunt for employment. She’d seen a need—the poorly managed grounds—and had pushed and poked her way into the Archangel. When she’d seemingly been accepted at face value, she hadn’t questioned her good fortune.

  So why was she now?

  A small, predatory light filled Rafe’s gaze, perhaps indicative of her sudden discomfort and uneasiness.

  Their sommelier departed, two glasses of red wine left behind in his wake, and Evangeline lifted her goblet in response to Rafe.

  “To patience.” Rafe clinked his glass against hers. “And all the dividends it inevitably pays.”

  “Cheers.”

  She took a sip of the wine, an exquisite explosion of taste on her tongue as she drank the rich red. The spa. The dress. Now the dinner. Rafael Stavros did nothing by half measure.

  “Lovely.”

  “As are you.” Rafe inclined his head before he settled his glass on the table. “What about you, Miss Kennedy? Are you a Las Vegas native?”

  “I think so.”

  The words were out so fast there was no way to retrieve them, even as the answer was far more honest than she’d ever have intended. While Rafe waited for her to continue, she weighed the merits of sharing her past.

  How did one share the details of a wretched childhood that began in an abusive home and ended in the cold, airless confines of foster care?

  And why did she even care?

  “My pedigree isn’t nearly as well established as yours.”

  Rafe’s eyebrows did lift at that, a mix of humor and affront painting those gray depths. “Are you suggesting I’m some sort of purebred dog?”

  “No, but I definitely have strains of mongrel.” She took a sip of her wine, fortifying herself with the burst of flavor and obvious quality of the drink. While certainly not necessary, it did make the telling a bit sweeter.

  “My parents were rather poor at their jobs. Both had drug problems, my father especially.”

  Where she’d braced for sympathy, something more akin to anger morphed in the swirling depths of his gaze. Oddly, the unexpected reaction encouraged her, allowing her to push on. “The tale’s not new, but Vegas certainly doesn’t provide a helpful backdrop for those battling addiction.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “I was young at the time, so there’s quite a bit I don’t remember. But one day my father just stopped coming home. My mother ranted and railed about it for months, falling deeper and deeper into her own abyss and then one day, it all stopped and she was gone, too.”

  “You remember?”

  “Some days.”

  “And others?”

  “I remember how I survived. Learning places to hide. Understanding how to read moods and body language and whatever else went on in a room. And finding my own solace in the small patches of dirt outside our apartment, the hardscrabble something I could make beauty out of.”

  “A flower in the desert.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “There’s no perhaps about it. You clearly found a way to triumph over unfair circumstances no child should ever have to experience.”

  “It’s why, you know.”

  “Why what?”

  She’d never been one to avoid or evade when she could simply go for what she wanted. It had been like that in foster care and she’d carried the trait on into adulthood. Hell, it had earned her a place at the Archangel.

  Yet in this moment—at this time—she nearly backed down. Almost walked away in the light of that anger that still burned in his gaze.

  Anger for her.

  Evangeline felt it. Knew it, on a deep, visceral level. The story of her past had upset him. Angered him with a primal rage she could read in the set of his broad shoulders and the tight grip he had on his wineglass.

  But a lifetime of loss and of looking out for no one but herself had more gravity than the rather new sensation of sitting opposite a champion.

  “It’s why I won’t forget what I saw. Or stop looking for answers as to why there was a man burning to death outside the greenhouse last night.”

  Chapter 4

  White-hot flames licked at his soul, a dark, dangerous fire Rafe struggled to keep in check. He prided himself on his control—he knew who he was and what he was capable of—and always held himself—and his needs—in a firm grip.

  Until Evangeline.

  She was incendiary, a bright, vivid match to the flames that already consumed him.

  And she was more dangerous than she ever could have imagined.

  Damn it all to Hades, he’d intended to leave the subject of last night alone. He’d foolishly believed a day of pampering and seduction would turn her mind away from the impossible.

  Or what should have been impossible but which was very, very real.

  Evangeline Kennedy was too smart—and far too intuitive—to leave the subject alone. Even with all the efforts of Gabe’s security team, working to divert and dissuade her from what she’d seen, she was unwilling to be put off.

  None of it changed the fact she’d also done them a massive favor by getting rid of the bumbling Troy and Victor. Their idiocy and obvious desire to infiltrate the casino was the reason she’d still been on the property at such a late hour, working without two team members.

  Was it really possible she had no idea the men were agents of the very organization seeking to bring down Rafe and his people? Did he dare ask her?

  Or more to the point, was he willing to deal with the consequences if she hid the one secret he feared?

  His gaze roamed over the delicate lines of her throat, her tan honing her skin to a fine shimmer. The steady throb of her pulse reflected in the hollow, deep and rich, and he could see the light movement of her flesh where her life force beat. If he were closer to a Rejuvenation, he could even hear it, those first moments of renewed life always a trauma to the senses.

  Was it even possible she was one of the monsters who hunted him and his people in service to Chaos?

  “You won’t find anything.”

 
“I have to try.” Her dark eyes sheened with tears, the response as surprising as it was unexpected. “I can’t live with myself if I don’t. That sort of violence and pain. How can you expect me to ignore it?”

  What if I told you it wasn’t violent? Wasn’t painful? Instead was filled with the richest sense of renewal and fresh life. It was the antithesis of pain. Of suffering. Of our mortal tether to human life.

  But he said none of those things.

  Instead he reached for his glass of wine and sat back in his chair, a bastard of the first order who wouldn’t break or bend, acquiesce or yield.

  He was Helios.

  And his secret was not to be shared or entrusted to another.

  * * *

  Gabe finalized preparations for their evening plans in the security center, his gaze on the screens that captured all the action down at Flame. His brother had been there for some time, his beautiful companion seated across from him, and the two were deep in heated conversation.

  Normally, he wouldn’t have given a shit if Rafe had a date. His brother’s chosen arm candy for the evening always lit up a room—always drew attention to their perfect faces and even more perfect figures—and he’d grown used to the steady parade. What had become something of a family joke, his brother’s refusal to go anywhere near the merest whiff of settling down, had a certain sort of comfort to it.

  A predictability Gabe had never really appreciated.

  Especially when now faced with Evangeline Kennedy. As stunning as every other woman Rafe had ever escorted, there was something else. Something more. The woman was unique, her vibrancy extending beyond the simply physical.

  And she was the first of any of their acquaintances to put them at risk. Add on Rafe’s recent Rejuvenation—totally out of pattern—and something didn’t sit well with him.

  Gabe had gone back and reexamined the file, Evangeline’s sad past coming to life in each and every word. Despite his wariness, he hadn’t been unaffected by what he’d read. Or what he knew needed to be done. Hell, he liked her himself. She’d done wonders to the property in little less than a year, ran a tight ship, and the woman knew how to take care of herself. She was impressive and intriguing and he admired her.

  If only...

  The woman was a risk to them all. If she was a Hunter, she had far too much access. If she wasn’t, it was more than possible she could still lead the Hunters straight to their door.

  Troy and Victor had been perfect examples. Both had checked out—Gabe had examined their employment files, too—yet both were on staff, plotting to do worse. Evangeline had dealt with them, but was it all an act? A show of camaraderie that would soften them up and assume she wasn’t in league with those who sought to destroy them?

  He and Rafe had done everything in their power to make the Archangel a haven. They knew how to cloak and shield their existence, both from determined prying eyes and from the world around them. Add on the standard measures of security and caution required to run a world-class casino hotel and they had believed themselves safe.

  Protected.

  Was it an illusion? And had they really led the wolf straight to their door?

  “Gabe!”

  Charlie ambled up to the security station, leaning forward as he zeroed in on the image of Rafe and Evangeline. “Who is that? Wait—Evangeline?”

  “Yep.”

  “Rafe’s dating her now?”

  “He’s watching her.”

  Charlie leaned forward once more. “Damn right he is. She cleans up well.”

  Charlie’s reinforcement of the scene playing out on the restaurant cameras did nothing to calm his spiking ire and Gabe tapped a few keys on the console, changing the main display. “Heard she had a tussle yesterday with a few of her employees.”

  “Didn’t Trevor walk you through it?”

  At Charlie’s narrowed eyes, Gabe pressed him. “I’d like it from your point of view.”

  “She followed protocol to a T. Kicked both of her employees straight off the grounds for poor conduct and possible endangerment of hotel guests. Was pretty steamed about it, too, but she called Security and let us manage the removal of badges and escort off property.”

  Gabe let Charlie talk, his matter-of-fact recap of events reinforcing what he already knew about the incident.

  “Heard you were going to investigate them tonight yourself. Looking for company?”

  “I could use an able body or two.”

  “I’m in. I’m always up for a little Hunter ass-kicking.”

  * * *

  Reject, deflect. Parry, thrust. Like an endless dance, she and Rafe kept going round and round throughout dinner over the burning man on the hotel grounds. Oh, he’d done a good job of changing the subject, but each and every time she directed the conversation back that fruitless dance started once more.

  For reasons she couldn’t quite name, that disappointed her most of all.

  She liked him. When she wasn’t irritated at his obtuse behavior, she had to admit he was a charming and enjoyable dinner companion. And while he was way more than a little easy on the eyes, his appeal quickly extended beyond the physical.

  It made whatever secret he was hiding that much more difficult to bear. And Evangeline wasn’t sure whether she was ready to back off or hunt down the police and the gaming commission in one fell swoop.

  She knew what she’d seen. No amount of refusal or denial on Rafe’s part was going to change that. What had changed over the past two hours was her need to understand the reasons why. Why there was a burning man in the first place. Why she couldn’t see any evidence on the ground. And why nothing—absolutely nothing—showed on the security cameras.

  Where she’d been initially wary that the Stavros family was hiding something illegal, or worse, committing crimes of their own, her time in close company with Rafe had shifted her direction. Her instincts might be on high alert, but increasingly it seemed there was a mystery afoot that had nothing to do with crime or greed or anything else.

  The problem was, what sort of mystery would surround a man who burned to a crisp and left no detail, residue or ash behind?

  Trying desperately to shake off the endless questions and keep her wits about her, she brought herself back fully to the moment. The two of them walked down the marble expanse that led from the restaurant to the indoor gardens, their steps slow and measured as Rafe asked her questions about the internal installation she’d proposed that morning.

  “You think you can do this installation fully in two days?”

  “Of course. We’ll start early the day after New Year’s and be done by the end of the next. Forty-eight hours, tops.”

  “And when will you sleep in all this?”

  Evangeline stopped at that, turning to him fully. “What is it with you and my work schedule? This benefits you. Your hotel. The experiences your guests will have when they visit. I’d think you’d appreciate a timely schedule and a plan of attack.”

  “Not at the expense of your health. Your well-being.”

  “It’s not like I’m doing anything else, anyway.”

  The words flew out before she could stop them and the congenial dinner companion morphed right there on the spot. The stubborn, hardheaded man who refused to share any of his own secrets almost seemed to surge forward as he leaped to understand hers.

  “What’s that about?”

  A healthy blush crept up her neck, spreading toward her cheeks. “No holiday plans this year. It’s not a problem.”

  “Will you be alone?”

  A sudden chill swept up her bare arms, at direct odds with the embarrassed heat, and Evangeline fought the urge to rub her upper flesh. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t agree.” Rafe moved closer, his large hand closing around her empty one, devo
id of her small clutch. “The holidays should be full of family and fun. The chance to make memories.”

  I have plenty of those and none of them are good.

  The words had nearly left her lips—nearly—before she caught herself. “I’m ready to make memories. The moment I watch the guests of the Archangel walk through the interior gardens in wonder and awe.”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Why not? If it makes me happy, makes me satisfied that my work brings pleasure to others, what’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. It’s just that the holidays are a time for family. For being together. For celebrating.”

  The banked embarrassment flared to life once more before it shifted—transformed, really—into whip-quick anger. Evangeline tugged her hand from his, taking a step back in determined self-preservation. “Not everyone celebrates. And not everyone has a family. More to the point, not everyone wants one.”

  “You don’t want a family?”

  “Of course I do. At some point.” And she did. It was her fondest wish, something she wrapped close to her heart each night as she lay down to sleep. Her lack of one haunted her as she worked the property, watching couples walk arm in arm or families laugh as they traversed the Archangel.

  She did want a family.

  But the very last thing she wanted was to discuss that here, now, with a rich Greek god who practically owned Vegas.

  “You don’t seem in any hurry to make one.” The words shot back before a small corner of her brain—the one not short-circuited out by the impressive presence of Rafael Stavros—warned her not to talk to her boss that way. But it was too late.

  “I have a family. A large, loud one who is up in my business each and every day, pressing me on that very question.” He leaned forward, a predatory smile painting his lips in a wolfish grin. “Are you sure they haven’t hired you?”

  Lingering anger and loneliness and that weird heat that suffused every single nerve ending each time she got within ten feet of Rafe flared to life once more. She remained still, even as the urge to reach out and brush her fingers over the lush lips that still quirked in that naughty grin had her fisting her hands, one on her clutch and the other by her side. “No.”