He wasn’t so sure. She seemed to…glow in a way he hadn’t seen another woman do. Maybe he was imagining things. Or he’d had too many experiences with dying mortals to remember what a healthy one looked like.
There was definitely something about her. Maybe it was the gleam of intelligence in her gaze as she’d appraised him. Humans could usually sense that death surrounded him. And that usually led to fear, but Seraphina, if she had sensed that, hadn’t reacted in that way.
Was there a chance she was some kind of supernatural? He shook his head. This was the most he’d thought about a woman whose soul he wasn’t about to Collect since he’d become a Collector. Well, since Lena, and she wasn’t someone he ever wanted to think about again. No, Seraphina was much more appealing.
Appealing? Had he actually just thought that? Damn. That was not a good sign. Time to put an end to any possible distraction. He didn’t need Seraphina to accompany him to the nightclub and bring the girl home. He had Dahlia’s picture. He could handle it.
He glanced at the door. He should just go. Except, this job was important to the Boss. Ares frowned. He didn’t want Javier’s assistant reporting back that he’d ditched her. No, he’d tell her face-to-face. Maybe make up some excuse that she should stay here in case Dahlia returned on her own. That would work.
The soft click-clack of heels crossed the foyer floor behind him. He turned.
His mouth came open, but no words came out. Because he had nothing to say.
Seraphina’s nightclub-going attire was a very small, glittery black dress, tall black heels, a slick of red lipstick and her dark hair twisted up in such a way that highlighted the delicate curves of her neck, shoulders and collarbone. A single curl escaped, dangling past her cheekbone. Simple diamond earrings shed sparks of light over her skin. Her only other jewelry was a curious gold star around her neck.
His fingers clenched involuntarily with the forbidden urge to touch her. He forced his hands to relax. “You should stay here,” he blurted.
“What?” She frowned at him. “I don’t think so. Javier expects me to bring her home.”
“I’ll bring her back. You should be here in case she returns while I’m gone.”
Seraphina tipped her head to one side, her expression full of disbelief. “Lucinda, the housekeeper, is here. And if you think you’re going to convince Dahlia to go anywhere with you, you clearly don’t understand teenage girls.”
That he did not. Maybe he would have to bring Seraphina after all. The thought of spending the evening with so much temptation so close did not please him.
“Besides, Dahlia trusts me. She’ll listen to—did you just growl?” She put her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong? Why don’t you want me going? Think I’m going to get in your way? Or that I’m going to ruin your game?”
“What? No. None of those things.” But he couldn’t say he didn’t want her going because he was afraid that her undeniable feminine charms were going to get lodged in his head until he could think of nothing else. Or worse, that he might accidentally take her soul. The muscles in his jaw tightened. “You can come.”
She snorted. “Like you had any say in it anyway.”
And now she was mad at him. That would not make for an easy night. He took a breath. “You look very beautiful.”
The hard line of her mouth softened, and the upset left her gaze. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “We should go.”
She reached for a set of keys on the counter.
“I can drive,” he offered.
She hesitated. “Are you sure?”
He nodded. It would give his hands something to do.
“Okay.” She went to a panel on the wall, pushed a button and spoke into it. “Lucinda, I’m headed out to look for Dahlia with the guy that place sent over. If you need me, call.” Then she returned to his side. Closer, this time.
Unable to help himself, he inhaled again. “Your perfume is nice.”
One side of her mouth quirked up at a curious angle. “I’m not wearing any.”
“Oh.” He closed his mouth and stood there, his standard level of discomfort around people ratcheting up.
“C’mon, let’s go.” She led him back to the front door, through the portico and to the circular drive. She pointed at his Maybach, her face skeptical. “That’s your car?”
“Is there an issue with it?” He enjoyed nice cars. They were one of the few pleasures he had in life.
“It’s gorgeous, but it’s also a two-seater. That’s going to make it hard to get Dahlia back here.”
He hadn’t thought of that. Obviously. Relief and a little disappointment swept through him. “You’ll have to take your car and follow me, then.”
She shook her head. “And pass up a chance to ride in this? No way. When we get a hold of Dahlia, I’ll call Javier to come get her.” She grinned. “Then you can bring me home, and I’ll get to ride in this twice.” She hitched one shoulder. “And there’s no way they’re not letting us in when we pull up in this beast.”
She’d get to ride in it twice.
Spacious was not a word that could be used to describe the Maybach’s interior, even with the windows down. And now he was going to be inches away from her twice. Taking a deep breath only served to fill his lungs with her perfume again. “Then…good,” was the best response he could come up with. He moved to open her door, disgusted with himself. Was this what proximity to a human woman did to him? Tangled his tongue?
She slipped into her seat, nimbly easing her long, bare legs into the car. He was staring and couldn’t stop himself. She caught his gaze, followed his sight line to her legs and laughed softly.
As if she was used to it. Maybe she was. He shut the door and made his way around to the driver’s side. A beautiful woman like her must get plenty of attention. It was surprising she wasn’t attached—he stopped at the rear of the vehicle. He was truly an idiot. Of course she was laughing at him. No doubt, she was more to Javier than just his assistant.
That must be a fancy way of putting one’s girlfriend on the payroll. The realization that he’d become so caught up over someone who wouldn’t even be interested or available drenched every wayward thought in ice-cold reality. He set his jaw, walked to his door and got in.
Her closeness wasn’t nearly the issue it had been a few moments ago. If she touched him, so be it. He was covered in leather. She was perfectly safe.
“This car…this car is amazing,” she cooed.
“I’m sure Mr. Bares owns some fine vehicles as well.” Ares pulled out of the drive and pointed them in the direction of downtown and Lux.
She lifted her hand toward the dash just as he went to adjust the air. He jerked his hand back. Gloves or not, it was instinct. She gave him a strange look but said nothing, finishing her reach to caress the dash. “He doesn’t have any Maybachs.”
“They’re no longer in production.”
She was staring at him. Hard. “This is pretty forward of me, but what do you do that you can afford a car like this?”
He sneaked a look at her. There was no guile in her eyes. She really didn’t know what he did. “I work for an organization that helps keep Las Vegas safe.”
She frowned. “But you’re not a cop, right? Because you don’t look like any police officer I’ve ever seen.”
“No, I’m not a cop. It’s a private organization.”
She twisted in her seat to face him. “Private as in not government related or private as in if you tell me you have to kill me?”
Her words caused his body to tense. There was no reason he couldn’t tell her who he worked for. In fact, it might help him figure her out a bit. The Collectors were well known among the supernatural population in Las Vegas. If he told her, and she showed no recognition, then she had to be human. “Not government related. The Sin City Collectors.” He watched her face. “Which makes me a Sin City Collector.”
She squinted at him. “You…collect things?”
Definite
ly human. Or human with too little supernatural blood to recognize it. Damn it. That just made her more vulnerable to his touch. It also meant he’d have to be a little vague in his explanation. “In a way. We help out in cases where the police can’t. Or people don’t want police assistance for one reason or another.”
Her eyes brightened, and she nodded, grinning slightly. “You’re a mercenary.”
“No, I’m not. I do what’s necessary to protect the citizens of this city.” Which meant taking the souls of those intent on hurting others, human and supernatural alike.
“So you’re a protector.” She put the word in air quotes. “Do you get paid for this job?”
“Yes, but—”
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
He kept his mouth shut. “We should be there soon.” For a car that could achieve two hundred and eighteen miles an hour, the Maybach suddenly seemed incredibly slow.
She leaned back against the window. “You have killed someone.” Then she straightened and leaned in toward him again, almost making him flinch. “Are you one of those supernaturals? I know Vegas has them. What are you? A shapeshifter? Like a werewolf? Do you howl at the moon?” Her index finger tapped the console between them. “No! I know. You’re a vampire, aren’t you?”
“I’m none of those things.” Technically true. He was only partly one of them.
“Are you going to bite me?”
“I am not a vampire.” Half a lie.
“But you are some kind of supernatural, right?” She shifted in her seat and shrugged, the lights of the city washing over her like a kaleidoscope. “I don’t think I’ve ever met one before. It’s cool. You don’t have to tell me. It’s not like you know me or anything. So long as I’m not in any danger from you.”
He kept his mouth closed. How was he supposed to answer that?
She tilted her head. “You really should tell me, though.”
Maybe she was a supernatural and didn’t know it, because right now it felt like she might have the superpower of wearing a person down. He sighed. “I am a wraith.”
She was quiet for a moment. “That’s pretty…I mean, that’s really… What’s a wraith, exactly?”
As if the universe was finally on his side, he pulled up to the valet stand at Lux and threw the car into park. “We’re here.”
The valet opened her door before she could ask any more questions. Ares got out and went around to meet her on the other side.
The valet was helping her out of the car, but his attention was strictly on the Maybach. “Bro, sick ride.”
Ares held the young man’s gaze for a hard moment. “There’s a hundred-dollar bill stuck in the visor. There’s another when I leave if the car’s in the same shape it is now.”
The valet nodded like his head was ball bearings. “You got it, bro. No worries.”
Ares gestured toward the front door of the club, allowing Seraphina to lead. She stayed right where she was, watching the valet drive off. “Two hundred dollars? I get that it’s a nice car, but that seems a little excessive.”
“There are only two of this model in the world.” Why he was justifying his actions to her, he had no idea, other than the peculiar feeling that it mattered what she thought.
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, two bills was a good move.” She shook her head. “That’s ballsy.”
“What is?”
“The fact that you even drive it.” She turned to look at the entrance. “Bouncers look like they mean business. But if you’re willing to spend two bills on a tip, I bet you can pretty much get in anywhere. I had no idea I was out with such a high roller.”
“I’m not a…” Telling her he never left his house except for Collections would make him sound like a crazy recluse. “We should go in. See if we’ve beat Dahlia here.”
She nodded. “Then we can continue our conversation inside.”
“What conversation?”
“About what kind of”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“supernatural you are.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but she was already moving toward the velvet rope. Part of him wondered if this whole mission wasn’t Romero’s way of getting him out of the house. If that was the case, Ares and Romero were going to have a long talk about boundaries when this thing was put to bed.
As soon as Seraphina spotted the muscle at the door, she knew getting into the club wouldn’t be a big deal despite the line that had formed. It was early, which meant the bouncers were already on guard for underdressed tourists, but they were men. Susceptible to her muse powers. She walked up to the VIP entrance, glancing back once to make sure Ares was still with her. He was. She shifted her focus to the bouncer on duty. “Hiya.”
Already in the process of turning an apparently undesirable couple away, he grunted back. His gaze skimmed her, then went right to Ares, who currently looked like he’d rather kill someone than spend time at a nightclub. “Evening.”
“He and I are together.” She lazily pointed at Ares, but kept her eyes on the bouncer and brightened her smile.
The bouncer finally looked at her and nodded, his expression softening. His hand went to the rope, but he made no move to lift it. “Your friend looks Goth. This isn’t a Goth club.”
“He’s European. His football team lost or something, and he’s a little cranky.” Beside her, Ares growled under his breath. She leaned in toward the bouncer conspiratorially. “He’s also loaded. Wouldn’t you love to let us in? I know I could really use some fun.”
The bouncer hesitated, as if thinking over what she’d said. Then the hint of a smile played in his eyes, and he seemed to forget about Ares. “Yeah, sure. Pay at the door.” He unhooked the latch and let them through.
“Thank you.” Sometimes, it was nice to have the sway of her abilities. Unlike with Ares, who didn’t seem affected by her gifts. At least not like every other man she’d ever met. That little fact also made him more intriguing than any other man she’d ever met. Swirl into that cocktail his undetermined supernatural status—other than being a wraith, whatever that was—and she was willing to admit that she was dying to talk to him some more.
He was a little strange, but then, she was a demigoddess. If that didn’t qualify as odd, nothing did.
The doorman nodded as they approached. “That will be eight dollars for the two of you.”
Before she could dig into her purse, Ares handed the man another hundred. “Keep it.”
“Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.” He reached for the door handle.
She quickly pulled up Dahlia’s picture on her phone and showed it to him. “Have you seen this girl tonight?”
He studied the picture for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Can’t say that I have, sorry.”
Ares held out another folded hundred-dollar bill between his gloved fingers. “She shows up, you let her in, then let us know. We’ll be seated in the Platinum Lounge.”
The doorman took the money, his brows lifting slightly. “Yes, sir. Enjoy your night.”
He opened the door. The rhythmic bass of house music vibrated the air as they walked in. She lifted her head to speak to Ares. “What’s the Platinum Lounge?
“VIP section.”
“Then you’ve been here before?”
“Yes.” He shifted to let someone pass without touching him.
She waited for him to elaborate. He didn’t, so she let it drop. He wasn’t much of a talker. Or a mingler, apparently. It only deepened her desire to figure him out. The club inside was beautiful, but Seraphina’s concern was for Dahlia. “Why don’t you stay here by the door while I make a quick loop to see if she’s already gotten in?”
Ares nodded as she left him behind. Despite the club’s size and the amount of patrons already there, it took her only a few minutes to scope the place out and determine that Dahlia wasn’t among them. As she returned to Ares, he was talking to another man. The guy was y
oung and definitely not an employee, based on the way he was dressed. Ares was angled away from him, arms crossed on his chest like a barrier. She had a hard time imagining he was afraid of anything, but he certainly carried himself in a very guarded way. There was definitely something going on with him.
The other man caught her gaze and nodded as she approached. “Hello.”
“Hello.” She looked at Ares. “Is this a friend of yours?”
“No. This is Leo. He was just leaving.”
Leo frowned. “I have a patrol to finish—”
“I’m here,” Ares interrupted. “You’re done. You have a problem with that, tell your uncle.”
Leo shook his head and scowled as he left.
Ares called over a server, flashed more money and within minutes, he and Seraphina were being ushered into the Platinum Lounge. He selected a spot with a perfect line of sight to the door, an opulent semicircular seating area with one large sofa done in tufted indigo velvet and two matching leather chairs set atop a plush Turkish rug. The whole section was draped with three walls of heavy Moroccan silk and lit by an ornate crystal chandelier that shed only enough light to set its crystals ablaze. Candles flickered on end tables, their soft glow repeated in the mirrored dishes holding them.
The whole thing was like a sultan’s tent. No wonder the rich and famous liked to hang out here.
Ares looked at her. “Is this all right? It has a good view.”
“It’s perfect.” She took a seat on the couch.
“Excellent.” He immediately sat next to her, but left enough room that another person could have fit between them. He held a hand up to get a server’s attention, but kept his eyes on Seraphina. “Would you like something to drink?”
She hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t. Being that we’re here to nab Dahlia and all.” Although, it took a fair amount of alcohol to affect her, which explained why full-blooded gods and goddesses had such reputations for excessive drinking.
Sin City Collectors Boxed Set: Queen of Hearts, Dead Man's Hand, Double or Nothing Page 13