Kitty and the Dead Man's Hand (Kitty Norville 5)

I sighed. “I know, I’m sorry. But I just hand the guy Rick’s note and then we’re done.”

“I hate vampires. You know that, right?”

I did. I couldn’t really blame him, but then I had more vampire friends than he did. Rather, he had no vampire friends at all. “Rick’s not bad.”

“Rick almost got us both killed when he took over Denver.”

I couldn’t argue with that. “Look, you don’t have to come along if you don’t want to. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes. Maybe you can kill time in the casino.” He seemed to be pretty good at that.

“Do you want me to come?” he said.

“Yeah, I kind of do.” We were a pack; I’d feel better with him at my side.

“Then let’s go and get this over with.”

We made our way out, walking side by side, our arms just brushing. “I should have told you earlier. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t say anything but took my hand and squeezed it. Grateful for the contact, I squeezed back.

Not knowing how else to go about seeing Dom, I asked at the front desk of the hotel. I was working on assumptions about a system I didn’t know very much about. Despite recent publicity, most of the city Masters still preferred to stay hidden. Among themselves, however, they had a network. They seemed to know each other and communicated with each other. Didn’t mean they were all friendly. In fact, there seemed to be factions. That was the part I didn’t understand too well.

I found a clerk at the desk. “May I speak to your manager? It’s nothing serious, I promise,” I added quickly at the young woman’s stricken expression.

After a moment, another young woman, this one more poised, balanced perfectly on high heels and wearing an armorlike smile, approached from the back. “I’m the duty manager this evening. Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all. It’s just that I have a message for Dom. Dominic. I was hoping to see him this evening. Do you have any way of letting him know I’m here?”

Her eyes went wide, like the other clerk’s had done. Couldn’t blame her. When a stranger walked up and asked to see the owner of the place, it had to be a shock. If not an outright joke. The least Rick could have done was given me a phone number.

“May I get your name?” she said.

“I’m Kitty Norville. Can you tell him I have a message from Rick in Denver?”

“Please wait just a moment,” She disappeared into the back.

We spent five minutes in silence watching crowds walk past us through the lobby to the casino. Mostly tourists, starry-eyed couples of every age. A few jaded business-suit types passed by, not sparing a glance for the decor, as well as a few who could only be high rollers, both men and women wearing lots of jewelry and flashy clothing, trailed by bellhops pushing baggage carts. One couple walked by: an aura of sleaze followed the guy, who looked unassuming enough in a dark gray suit. He had a round, serious face and trimmed dark hair. The woman on his arm appeared far too young and far too thin, and she wore five-inch heels and a tiny, tiny black dress with a skirt up to here and one sleeve hanging off the shoulder. Straight out of a movie. If I hadn’t seen the stereotype for myself I wouldn’t have believed it.

“Don’t judge,” Ben said. “Maybe she’s his sister.”

I stared at him, brows raised. He chuckled.

The manager returned and offered a key card. “Take this to the elevator. It’ll give you access to the penthouse. Dom said he’s looking forward to meeting you.”

Well, wasn’t this fancy? “Thanks.”

“Just hand him the note, right? He offers us drinks,

I’m out of there,” Ben said.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said, tugging at his arm.

Inside the gold and mirror-lined elevator, I slotted the key card, and it chimed a merry green light at me. Then the car zipped straight up. I was simultaneously excited and uneasy. How cool was it getting invited to the penthouse suite of a Vegas tycoon? But then, he was a vampire. If he offered us his kind of drinks, I’d be fleeing with Ben.

When the elevator doors slid open, I expected to see more of the Renaissance opulence the rest of the hotel boasted. Here, though, the decor was much more understated. We stepped into a foyer with a polished floor, wood paneling, and soft lighting. A large glass table held a black vase of white roses. The room spoke of wealth, but restrained and tasteful instead of out of control.

A man in his early forties, strong-jawed and handsome, with short, dark hair, graying a little, emerged from the room beyond the foyer. He wore a dark, long-sleeved shirt and gray slacks. Collar pressed, shoes polished. He might have been any businessman in any upscale setting. He had a winning smile, and he smelled cold.

He walked straight toward us, too quickly, too eager. Ben and I stood shoulder to shoulder, a step away from a defensive posture—the wolves’ reaction. The vampire didn’t seem to notice his effect on us.