Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand
Page 39

Concrete. Spilled oil. Burned gas. City smells. People had passed by here, and maybe I smelled a hint of Ben, and a trace of steel and gun oil. But I couldn’t be sure. The scent of Vegas itself masked the details.
“You see what you needed to see?” Gladden said.
“Yeah,” I said, studying the alley one more time. “I thought I might sense something.”
“Ms. Norville,” he said. “I promise, I’ll call you the minute I learn something.” The pity in his voice was plain. He thought Ben had dumped me. My arguments to the contrary didn’t mean anything, because he’d seen this story play out before. Sure, a hundred thousand couples a year got married in Vegas. But how many people got dumped in Vegas? The tourist bureau didn’t have those statistics.
I managed to mumble a thanks after Gladden and Matthews escorted me back inside. They continued to assure me that they were doing everything they could to find Ben. The words sounded hollow.
I sure as hell wasn’t going to spend the day sitting next to the phone, waiting.
My first thought was to talk to Dom. Vampire Masters in any town made it their business to know what was going on in their city, who the movers and shakers were, supernatural and otherwise. I needed to know more about the people who had taken Ben, where they might be holding them, how strong they were, and who might help me get him back. Dom might know. The problem: the desert sun still blazed, and Dom wouldn’t be out until nightfall.
I had some other ideas, but before I could do anything, I had to tell my parents: the wedding was off. At least until we found Ben.
Chapter 13
I called Mom on my way to the Olympus ’s casino bar.
She was nonplussed by the news about Ben. I wasn’t sure my explanation made any sense. It still sounded like the plot of a bad movie. “Kitty, are you sure you’re all right? You sound a little panicked. Where are you? Your father and I can meet you—”
“No, Mom, that’s okay. I’m fine—I mean I’m not fine, but I’m functioning. I’m going to find some people who might be able to help. You and Dad should just—I don’t know. Just don’t worry. I’m going to figure out what’s going on.”
She sighed. “But Ben wouldn’t just up and leave without telling you.”
“That’s what I told the cops,” I said. “But that only means something terrible has happened.”
“I’m sure the police are doing everything they can. Kitty, you really shouldn’t be by yourself. Let us take you out to dinner.”
As if I could think about eating at a time like this. I’d reached the bar and started searching. The place was packed with a Saturday evening crowd. Unfortunately, every single one of them looked like they belonged at a gun show. Half of them seemed to be eyeing me suspiciously. I so didn’t want to be here. I parked with my back to the wall, between the bar and the front entrance, and kept a watch out.
“Kitty, are you still there? I can hardly hear you. Where are you?” I had no idea what she could be thinking. She’d always been supportive, even when she didn’t entirely understand what she was supporting. But I wondered: did she sometimes wish I could just be normal?
“Yeah, Mom. It’s okay. Really.”
I heard rustling through the mouthpiece, and she said, “Your father wants to talk to you.”
Crap. I knew he was only worried. But I wouldn’t be able to tell him no.
“Hi, Kitty?” he said. The father-knows-best worried voice.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Deep breath now. “I’ll be fine. It’s all going to turn out, trust me.”
“Hey, don’t get defensive. I just want to talk to my favorite youngest daughter. Now, your fiancé is missing. I really don’t think you should be alone right now. If you don’t want to have dinner, that’s fine. Your mother and I just want to be sure you’re holding up all right. Just a drink in the hotel bar. Okay?”
I couldn’t argue. How did he do that? “Okay. I’m in the bar right now. But give me half an hour.”
“We’ll be right down,” he said.
“No, half an hour—” but he’d already hung up. Great. This was going to get interesting.
I sat on a stool and ordered a soda. I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth had gotten. Adrenaline and nerves really sucked it out of you. I had to keep my strength up if I was going to find Ben.
Playing with the ice, I watched the entrance. I assumed the clandestine convention-within-a-convention was still happening. One of them would pass through here eventually. I’d spot them and pounce. I still felt like I had a target painted on me. I tapped my feet, didn’t even bother trying not to look anxious. Remembered Brenda’s ultimatum: she sees claws, she shoots. And I couldn’t blame her one tiny bit.
This wasn’t my crowd. I had no idea how to deal with people who would sooner shoot me than look at me. Well, actually, I did. The night I met Cormac, I managed to talk him out of shooting me. I wished Cormac or Ben were here to talk to them. But if they were here, I wouldn’t need to confront Evan and Brenda, would I?
I had gotten used to the idea of a pack—human, werewolf, all of the above—standing with me, helping me, watching out for me. I didn’t want to go back to being on my own. Wolves belong in packs.
I kept checking my phone in case I’d missed a message. I hadn’t. I wanted Gladden to call and tell me everything was all right. The woman tending bar leaned over to me at one point and said, “He stand you up or something?”
Strangely, after processing the question, I wasn’t sure how to answer. “Not yet,” I said finally.
She shrugged and went about her work, like this wasn’t the weirdest thing that had happened all day.
When Evan finally appeared, I almost fell off my seat. I stopped myself in time, took a breath, and played it cool. Hoped I was playing cool.
He was talking with another man, someone I didn’t recognize. They exchanged a few words outside the bar, shook hands, and the other guy walked off. Deal concluded, it looked like. I was afraid Evan was going to walk away as well, forcing me to chase after him. But he didn’t. He came in and headed for a booth in back.
I stalked after him.
He looked like he was about to slide into the booth, but he wasn’t, because his body was tensed the wrong way, angled so that he could see over his shoulder, which meant he knew I was following him. Which was fine; I wasn’t trying to be subtle.