Sin City Collectors Boxed Set: Queen of Hearts, Dead Man's Hand, Double or Nothing

by Kristen Painter

  Trying not to laugh, he moved toward her until their knees bumped. “Better?” It certainly was for him.

  “Mm-hmm.” She took another sip of champagne.

  “So you’re bossy and persuasive.” And hot as hell. At that moment, being hard had nothing to do with being a gargoyle.

  She raised her brows. “You act like you’ve never met a feline shifter before, and I know you have, because you said a lot of Sloan’s other assistants were.”

  “True, but they weren’t anything like you. And speaking of, I swear on my keystone I never slept with Roxy. She did, however, find her way into Sloan’s bed about two days after she was hired. Which is also why she got fired. Way too clingy. The ones that think they’re going to become the next Mrs. Sloan never last.”

  She looked over the rim of her glass at him. “Do most of his assistants sleep with him?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  Her brows lifted slightly. “He’s going to be very disappointed in me then.”

  “Not into powerful men with a ton of money?”

  She shot him a look. “Not if they’re also overcompensating egomaniacs with God complexes.”

  “This fake date just got even better.” With a wry smile, Jason lifted his whiskey. “Here’s to the power of make-believe.”

  She clinked her glass against his, then drank. “So, since you brought the devil up, what are you here to get for Sloan? Do you need me to help you with that? Does he have you pick up stuff for him often?”

  He almost choked on his drink. He added “direct” to her list of descriptors. “No, I don’t need your help.”

  “So what’s the item?”

  “It’s…” He sighed. Telling her meant revealing something he knew full well Sloan wouldn’t want revealed. But telling her felt right. Like they were part of a team. The last time he’d had a feeling even close to this was during his Special Ops days. “How well can you keep a secret?”

  “Like a tomb.”

  “Good.” He believed her. Another mouthful of whiskey burned its way down his throat before he answered, “I’m here to get an ingredient for a spell Sloan’s working on.”

  “A new illusion?”

  “Yes. Mostly.” Sloan had already ordered new props that would be part of his death illusion. What the audience wouldn’t know was that Sloan was actually dying in front of them, but with the mortality spell, he’d simply come right back to life. No doubt it would rocket the man to a new level of stardom. Making him even hungrier to top himself. Jason could only imagine what that would mean for him.

  She leaned in, obliterating what little space there had been between them and giving him a generous peek into her cleavage. “Demon blood? Because I could take out that ice demon without feeling too bad.”

  He slanted his eyes at her. “No. Nothing that…drastic. But close. He needs the scales of a lamai demon.”

  She shifted, putting her shoulder against his. She scanned the bar over the rim of her glass. “Is there a lamai demon in here?”

  “There are three of them over by the pool tables. The women with the mottled green skin and snake eyes.”

  “Charming.” She downed a little more champagne. “What’s the plan? Grab a handful and run? Because if that’s the case, I probably shouldn’t have worn these heels.”

  “I told you this wasn’t going to involve you, and no, that’s not the plan, because doing that will make Diesel very upset and probably get both of us banned from here for life. And I need at least one place where I can get away from Sloan.”

  “You come here often?”

  “Every once in a while.”

  “Who’s Diesel?”

  “See the big guy behind the bar?”

  “Oh.” Her mouth rounded, then pulled to one side in a conspiratorial whisper. “That is one large individual.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Fortunately, his attention seems to be occupied by that pretty little brunette.” She put her flute on the table and sat back, crossing her arms under her chest in such a way that made her cleavage even more distracting. “If it’s not going to be a grab-and-dash, how do you plan on doing it?”

  Therein lay the problem. “I haven’t really gotten that far.” Everything he’d come up with ended with him facing down Diesel’s wrath.

  “Do you have to do stuff like this for Sloan all the time?”

  He stared into the amber liquid in his glass. “More than I like.” Her gaze rested on him like the gentle pressure of a comforting hand.

  Sympathy softened her voice when she spoke. “If you don’t like working for him, why do it? Why not quit? A guy like you could get a security job anywhere. I know people. I could talk to them about—”

  “That’s sweet of you, but it’s not that simple.” He moved into the curve of the seat, putting a little distance between them so he could think about something other than her impressive assets.

  “Life never is.” She shifted her gaze to Diesel. Then to the lamai. Then back to Jason. “I might have a plan.”

  He was sure she did. “No.”

  She slanted her eyes at him. “You have a better plan?”

  He actually didn’t. “I’m guessing that no matter what I say, you’re going to tell me yours.”

  “Yep.”

  “I can’t wait.” He already knew he was in trouble, but damn, trouble had never been so persuasive. Or sexy. Or smelled so good.

  She shimmied over to him until their arms touched from shoulder to elbow, then leaned in. “Okay, here’s what I’m thinking…”

  Claude knew what she was about to do meant breaking one of the most serious rules of Collecting. She was about to help someone slated for Collection commit an act punishable by Collection against another supernatural. It was like the perfect storm of things not to do while out on a job.

  Problem was, she didn’t see any other way to fulfill her objective. Helping Jason grab a few scales off one of the lamai females would indebt him to her and make them cohorts against Sloan. There was no way he wouldn’t spill the truth about the Queen of Hearts after that.

  And if all went according to plan, the only thing the lamai female would know was that she’d been in a catfight.

  Literally.

  The time for backing out was gone. She and Jason had given up their booth and separated. She’d found a spot at the bar where she could keep an eye on his progress while he went off with a pitcher of margaritas to woo the lamais and separate the most willing one from the rest of the herd.

  From the looks of it, he had his pick. One of Claude’s canines stabbed her bottom lip, and she realized she’d started to slip into her half-form, something that happened only in cases of excess emotion. She shook herself and frowned. How could she be jealous? She’d known the guy only a day. A really long day. That they’d been together for all of. In very close contact.

  She sighed out a soft curse. What was wrong with her? She wasn’t even in heat!

  Another shifter moved into her line of sight and blocked her view. “Hey there.”

  She stared at him with as much boredom as she could muster. Judging by his ’80s hair and creepy grin, she guessed he was hyena. “I’m with someone.”

  “Really? Cuz you look awfully lonely.” The creepy smile got bigger. And creepier.

  “And you’re going to feel awfully hurty if you don’t move on.”

  “Aw, now, come on, is that any way to talk to the man of your dreams?” He laughed, a sound somewhere between a bray and a screech. Definitely hyena.

  She flicked out a handful of claws and used one to tap his chest. “Look, dude, you’re punching above your weight class here. Move on and call it a win that all of your blood is still in your body.”

  That took care of the creepy smile. He whined a curse and stormed off. She rolled her eyes and went back to watching Jason, who’d apparently made great strides if the lamai chick trying to wear him like a suit was any indication.

  Claude tried to ignore how that felt, b
ut the thought of grabbing the demon by her long blue-green hair and yanking her off Jason was too pleasurable to let go of. Besides, she might actually get to do it if things went according to plan. Good times.

  Jason was whispering something in the woman’s ear that caused her to close her eyes and go a deeper shade of emerald. Shouldn’t be long now. And it wasn’t. Five minutes later, Jason and the lamai demon were headed out the door.

  Claude had never wanted to break up a couple so badly, even though she knew Jason was just acting out his part. She forced herself to wait a few minutes, then dropped a couple bucks on the bar for the water she’d had and went out after them. The windows on the Mercedes were already steamed up. Maybe she’d waited too long. Jason really poured himself into his work. Or the lamai was trying to mark her territory.

  Two could play that game.

  Claude slipped off her heels and set them on the trunk with her purse before yanking the passenger door open. The lamai demon had her hands all over Jason. Claude shifted into her half-form without a second of hesitation, filled both clawed hands with the demon’s hair and pulled. “Get the hell off my boyfriend!”

  The demon came out of the car snarling and spitting, her forked tongue lashing out at Claude. She was barely aware of Jason jumping out of the car. She raked her claws down the demon’s arm, sending scales flying while managing to hang on to a few.

  “Ladies!” Jason tried to separate them, but managed only to push them farther between the cars when the lamai twisted away from him.

  “If he’s your boyfriend, why was his tongue down my throat?” The lamai reared back, her fangs fully extended, and lunged for Claude.

  Claude ducked, but the lamai was serpent-fast and whipped around for a second strike. Claude got in another swipe, this time across the lamai’s overexposed chest. Her claws raised long, red scratches that healed almost instantly. The lamai hissed and arched to strike again. Claude brought her hand up to guard her face, her fist full of scales. Any second now, Jason would shift and bring the hammer down on the lamai.

  But a quick glance showed her he had his hands full with the lamai’s two demon girlfriends. They were snarling and clawing at him, one on his back and one at arm’s length. Once he shifted, they’d probably run like scared rabbits. A gargoyle could flatten a lamai in one blow.

  The slip of concentration cost her. The lamai dodged Claude’s right hook. The demon’s fangs sank into her arm. Burning pain radiated from the bite. Claude jerked back and shoved her fist into the lamai’s throat, shutting the demon down as her access to air ground to a halt.

  Claude staggered as she got upright again. Her vision dimmed at the edges. She heard Jason growl and what sounded like the crack of bone, then everything went black.

  When she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t in the parking lot. Or her own bed.

  Her mouth was bone dry and tasted like she’d been sucking on a piece of metal. Her head throbbed, and fire danced up her arm and into the center of her chest. What little light filtered through the room’s blinds didn’t reveal anything that looked familiar. Large room, big bed, masculine décor, two possible exits, although she suspected one door led to a bathroom.

  A familiar spicy cologne perfumed the sheets. She was in Jason’s bed.

  She lifted her injured arm gently. A bandage covered the bite, and the acrid odor of poison wafted toward her, ruining the pleasantness of Jason’s scent. She started to bend her arm to see the bite better and nausea struck her in a hard wave.

  Her mouth watered like she might vomit. She sucked in a deep breath. Wretched lamai. As soon as the nausea passed, she ran her other hand over her body. Her little black dress was still there, but her shoes were gone. She called out for Jason, her voice barely a mew.

  The door opened a few seconds later, spilling light through the crack and outlining his large, muscular form. Concern furrowed his brow. “Good, you’re awake. How are you feeling? Can I get you something?”

  “Not great. I take it I’m at your place? How long have I been out? Can you put a little light on?”

  He came over and switched on the reading lamp on the nightstand. “Yes, you’re at my place. It was the closest. You’ve been out for a while. It’s almost four a.m. How do you feel?”

  She shot him a look. “Like I was bitten by a lamai demon.”

  “What can I get you?”

  “Water.” She wanted to sit up, but knew better. Movement would only make the poison spread. Best to keep the suffering contained as much as possible. “What happened in the parking lot? I expected you to shift. Going full-on gargoyle would have scared that lamai off before she’d had a chance to bite me. You could have at least flown me to safety.”

  Her only answer was a dark shadow of anger that covered his face as he disappeared into the other room. He returned a minute later with a glass of water and a straw. The anger had turned into something more like resignation. He sat on the side of the bed and helped her drink. “I’m really sorry about what happened to you. It’s my fault for letting you get involved.”

  She sipped the water. It tasted like liquid bliss. “You didn’t answer my question about why you didn’t shift.”

  “It’s…complicated.”

  Wasn’t everything? What wasn’t he telling her? “Did we get the scales?” She went back for more water. She’d push him further on the not shifting thing when she didn’t feel like she could die at any moment.

  He made a face. “Do you really care?”

  “If I’m going to take a hit, I at least want the mission to be successful.”

  He set the glass on the nightstand. “I’m not sure that what happened was a mission so much as a poorly conceived idea.”

  “Did we get the scales or not?”

  “Yes.”

  The satisfaction gave her some relief. “Well, that’s something.” The nausea started to return. She exhaled slowly, trying to keep it at bay.

  “You look a little green.”

  Another slow exhale was followed by a wash of pain, making her suck in a ragged breath and moan. Holy Bast. Turning tiger and chewing off her arm was starting to sound like a good idea. “I’m fine.”

  He scowled. “The hell you are. I’m taking you to a hospital.”

  “There’s nothing a human hospital can do.” The burning in her arm traveled deeper into her chest, burrowing into her body like a living thing. It would pass in time, but maybe Jason didn’t know that. It gave her an idea. “I need access to a witch’s pantry.”

  “I don’t know any witches.”

  “Sloan’s a sorcerer. He must have a lab of some kind where he develops his illusions and spells.”

  “He does. It’s part of his office in the penthouse.”

  His response to what she was about to ask should prove whose side he was on. “Take me there.”

  “Are you sure you should travel?”

  “No, but he’ll have what I need to take care of this bite.”

  Without hesitation, he yanked the covers back, slipped his arms under her and cradled her against the hard expanse of his chest. “Hang on. I’ll get you there as fast as I can.”

  And he did. While she sprawled on the back seat of the sedan, aching from head to toe, he sped through the streets and into the parking garage of Sloan Tower. When he’d secured her in his arms again, he used his pass card to get them in the building and into Sloan’s penthouse headquarters.

  He shouldered open the doors that led into Sloan’s private office and eased her onto the leather chaise. “After I break down the door to his workroom, the alarms will go off. Maybe you should tell me what you need now so we can do this as quickly as possible.”

  The pain was a little easier to bear when she wasn’t moving. “You break down that door, and he’ll fire you.”

  Jason snorted derisively. “No, he won’t.”

  She raised her brows. “You can’t tell me there won’t be some kind of blowback.”

  “He’ll be mad as hell. And w
ill probably retaliate, especially because I took you along to Hellhounds in the first place, but all that matters is getting you better.” He seemed so resolved. “Now tell me what you need so we can do this fast.”

  She grimaced. The pain was getting worse. After it peaked, it would subside, but getting to that peak wasn’t going to be fun. “How will he retaliate?”

  “What does it matter? You’re in pain.”

  She gritted her teeth. Sweat stuck her dress to her back. “Jason, what does he have over you? Tell me, and I’ll give you the list of things I need.”

  “Stubborn…you’re the one in pain here, not me.” He shook his head and glanced toward the window for a second before returning his attention to her. “He has my keystone.”

  The shock of that information replaced her pain for a brief second. “How on earth did he get it?”

  Jason obviously didn’t want to talk about it, but his grimace was enough of an answer. Whatever had happened had not been pleasant.

  She let it go. “No wonder you didn’t shift when we were at Hellhounds. You can’t. You can’t fly, either, then, can you?”

  Looking at him, she knew he couldn’t. His body had gone so rigid she was afraid he might snap a tendon. Anger radiated off him. No wonder. He must feel like he’d just confessed to being half a man.

  “Not being able to protect you…” His voice trailed off, but the emotion in his eyes made it clear how he felt.

  A new hurt bloomed inside her, one that had nothing to do with the demon’s bite. For both their sakes, she changed the subject. “When you say he’ll retaliate, what do you mean?”

  Jason finally spoke. “He’ll break the keystone. He’s been threatening to anyway.”

  The depth of Sloan’s evilness suddenly became clear. “It’s how he controls you.”

  He clenched his fists tighter, whitening the skin around his knuckles. “Yes. And if he destroys it, I become an ordinary man.”

  The kiss of death for any supernatural, especially one with the power of flight. It would be like clipping the wings of a bird of prey. She tilted her head to see him better, sending new ripples of pain through her body. “He won’t destroy it just because you helped me. Not when you remind him he needs me whole for the show tonight and this was the only way to do it. Where does he keep the keystone?”