Wilde Card: Immortal Vegas, Book 2 (18 page)

“I’ve made a living off it.” Still, when we eased to a stop and the door opened beside me, I didn’t think too much about the hand that reached in to help haul me and my microdress out of the vehicle. Until I touched it.

The Devil was back again.

Electricity sparked through me, rich and hot. Holding on to Kreios’s hand was like catching a live wire, but I gritted my teeth against the sensation that turned my nerves into silly string and used his grip to launch myself out of the car and onto the pavement.

“As I imagined in my wildest fantasies, Sara Wilde,” Kreios murmured, lifting my hand to his lips. He looked devastating, as usual, his golden-god hair drifting over the shoulders of his immaculately cut tuxedo, more gold glinting at his neck and wrist that somehow made him appear exotic, not like some seventies-era lothario. I never could figure out how he pulled that off.

Then I focused on what he was doing. His lips connected with my fingertips, soft as a sigh. The double pressure of his mouth and his fingers made my head swim, and I pulled my hand away, smiling brightly.

“And Armaeus has no problem with you squiring me around tonight.”

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” Kreios tucked my hand into his arm, the thin protection of his suit sleeve doing nothing to shield me from the warmth of his sheer physicality. “Your arrival is well-timed. About half the guests are here, and all the important ones besides Fuggeren. He is an attention seeker of long standing, so I suspect he will be among the last to arrive.”

“And the items in question? You’ve seen them?”

His smooth, rolling chuckle enveloped me. “Everyone has seen them. If I didn’t have your report, I would assume they were merely part of the show. They seem quite…muted.”

“Muted?” I stared at him. “Kreios, those things practically blew me across a room.”

“Then my congratulations are due to the men and women of Techzilla, Inc. Because, though they are kept in clear glass, the cases presently give no indication of their power.” He nodded to me. “I’ll be interested to see you experience them yourself. An interest I harbor about so many things I would enjoy watching you experience.”

When I tried to shift away out of a belated sense of self-preservation, he held me close, his mouth hovering over my hair. “You have nothing to worry about from me, Sara Wilde. Not yet. Once you say yes to all that I might offer you, then your worries will begin.”

The doors to the elevator chose that moment to open, and we boarded along with a small selection of other guests, men and women alike dripping designer couture and bling. The women, though, were dressed…differently from me.

“Umm…”

Kreios’s hand firmed on my arm, but he didn’t speak until the elevators opened again. There was nothing more magical than an elevator for rendering its occupants mute.

The moment we stepped into the showroom, however, he bent to me. “Look around. As I said, your attire is perfection.”

I scanned the room and noticed two things immediately. First, most of the women were gowned and tiaraed to the hilt, except for a tiny fraction who looked like they’d taken the wrong turn in a
Resident Evil
screen test and found themselves here. Those women were not hanging on the arms of their dates, but staring around the room, picking out competitors. And not for Miss Congeniality awards. The other female guests faded into the background by comparison. So did most of the men. But not all of them.

“That’s Mantorov, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Grigori Mantorov was among the first to arrive, and he received a personal walk-through from the organizers. He is rumored to be interested in acquiring the entire collection, without singling out any specific item.”

“The entire…” I stared at the treasures under glass. “No one could have that much money.”

“His work appears to be uniquely profitable.”

I considered that, rage firing in me anew. I hadn’t seen the man’s face before this moment, but I’d seen the face of what he’d done. “Who else?”

“Annika Soo is watching you, so it’s less advisable for you to observe her at the moment.” Instead, Kreios took the opportunity to pull me around to face him, appearing for all the world to be a young man in love. Never mind that he’d been kicking around for nearly a hundred years. Still, there was nothing ancient about the way his gaze raked over me. “Your mind is too active, Sara Wilde. You must learn to cloak your emotions. Particularly those about the Council.”

I lifted my brows. “You really want to do this now?” I didn’t wait for his nod. The Devil seemed uniquely designed for confrontation. “You—the Council—have been driving people here. To Vegas. This week. Forget these stupid artifacts; that’s just icing on the cake for you. You wanted SANCTUS, first and foremost. And you’re getting them too, aren’t you?”

Kreios shrugged lazily. “There are two low-level lieutenants on the guest list, Vatican priests who are artifact experts. They appear to be here for nothing more than reconnaissance. They do not appear to anticipate any play for the cases tonight.”

“Which experts?” I took the opportunity to intercept a passing server’s tray full of champagne flutes and scanned the room as I selected a glass. I saw the two men almost instantly, once I started searching for them. The priests’ robes were a dead giveaway. “Not exactly subtle.”

“They don’t need to be. Their official role here is for the Vatican, nothing more. But what they’re fixated on is not surprising.”

The scroll cases did not command the center case of the room, but a small highlighted case to the side. Lined fully in purple velvet, it featured the cylinders on raised glass stands. I didn’t catch the slightest murmur of power from the scroll cases. “Simon has seen these?”

“During the walk-through this morning.” Kreios nodded. “The security is top of the line, every item chipped, the glass unbreakable. The wards within are the trickier subject.”

“Well, they’re definitely doing their job.” I frowned, peering at the gold glinting in its case. “It wasn’t this heavily protected in the warehouse.”

“And now?”

I shrugged. “We’re all still upright, and at least half the people in here are Connected. So they’re doing something right.” I lifted my glass to my lips, aware of another gaze on me. I turned and caught the cold, black stare of a beautiful Asian woman across the room. Like me, she was dressed in a black sheath, though hers was crafted of thickly embroidered silk, and her boots were low. Low and much more serviceable. She surveyed me critically but didn’t appear to pass judgment, despite my ridiculous getup. Which made her more dangerous still.

“So what’s the—”

“Miss Wilde, what a surprise.”

I shifted back, instantly on the defensive, but there was nowhere to go but against Kreios’s body. He, predictably, didn’t move, absorbing my weight as if born to the task. “Detective Rooks,” I managed.

“For a woman new to Vegas, you’re showing up in the
most
interesting of places.”

“Oh?”

“First that terrible tragedy at Binion’s, then the hospital, then the airport…and now here. Funny how that works.” He shifted his hard gaze to Kreios. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Detective Brody Rooks, LVMPD.”

He reached out his hand, and Kreios took it in a brief, hard shake, the action not a competition but not a sterling demonstration of camaraderie either. “Aleksander Kreios,” the Devil practically purred. “But then, you probably know that already.”

“One of the perks of the job.” Brody shifted his gaze to me. “If your date will excuse you for a moment, I’d appreciate the chance to catch up. For old time’s sake.”

I shot Kreios a glare, but he merely inclined his head. “Of course, Detective. I wish you good hunting.”

Good hunting?

Brody didn’t seem to catch Kreios’s jibe, or he didn’t care. The detective reached for my arm, thought better of it, then gestured for me to precede him to the side of the room.

“It’s not a crime to go to a party,” I muttered as we walked.

“Give it a half hour and I’m sure you’ll make it one,” Brody snapped. “I don’t want to arrest you, Sara, but you’re making it awfully difficult.” He jabbed his thumb at the cases. “Why are you here? And while you’re explaining that, tell me exactly how you managed to show up on the arm of one of the sleaziest players in Vegas.”

“Not anywhere close to being your business.” Over Brody’s shoulder, I could see Kreios clearly as he leaned toward the case in the center of the room. There was no mistaking his grin. Whatever buttons he’d pushed on Brody, he’d pushed them hard.

Brody noticed my distraction and also turned. Kreios saluted him with a raised champagne glass. “Christ,” Brody muttered, his voice thick with disgust. “Who the hell are you?”

My gaze sharpened on him. The confusion and fatigue of the past two weeks coalesced into diamond-sharp pinpoints, whether ready to poke holes into this man or to jab myself, I wasn’t sure. Brody shouldn’t be here, not in this nest of Connected vipers. Not when SANCTUS and the Council were about to square off. And not where there was a big glass box of mystical mayhem that I suspected was about to be cracked wide open. “What I am is not breaking any laws. Remember that part? That’s the part you should care about.”

“Like I said, not yet.” He didn’t have to flick a glance at Kreios, but he did anyway. I didn’t know what pissed me off more. That Brody thought I was sleeping with Kreios or that it was the one thing the detective could imagine me doing with him. Then understanding struck him.

“You’re using your
gifts
for Aleksander Kreios? But how and why could he need you to find anyone? He’s richer than God.” It would have been comical if it wasn’t so heartbreaking watching Brody play connect the dots. “You don’t just find people anymore, do you? You find things. Expensive things. He’s a collector.” His eyes hardened. “And you’re here to collect.”

I widened my hands. “You’re more than welcome to search me.”

“Don’t think I don’t plan to.” He stepped closer to me, and I sensed it again, the heady rush of desire that had barely begun blooming in my hormone-fogged brain over the last year of our work together when I was Psychic Teen Sariah, combined with the very real, very grown-up reaction to him now. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not here to steal some of this gold, Sari—Sara. Because I
do
have the authority to arrest you, on suspicion of becoming a pain in my ass if nothing else.”

I glared back at him. “I find things, Brody. Totally on the up-and-up.”

Okay, technically about thirty seconds after I found something…I stole it. But, details.

He didn’t back down. Instead he edged closer to me. “What aren’t you telling me?”

More than he could ever imagine. “Back off, Detective. People are starting to stare.”

To his credit, Brody didn’t flinch, and he didn’t move. “And what would your new friend think about me being this up close and personal with you, Sara? Would he have a problem with that?”

“Not in the slightest, I can assure you.” Kreios had appeared at our side, so quickly and silently that I jerked back, though Brody’s reaction was more natural. Kreios draped his arm over my shoulder, his touch once more electric, lighting my nerve endings on fire. “If you would be interested in getting up close and personal with both of us, Detective, allow me to give you my card.”

“I know how to find you.”

“Of that I have no doubt. But if you’ll excuse us.”

Without waiting for Brody’s response, Kreios turned me back to the center of the room. “That was bracing.” He slanted me a glance. “Do you want me to share with you Detective Brody Rooks’s most pressing desires? Or can you guess?”

Chapter Seventeen

We stopped in front of the nearest case. I shook my head. “If only you used your powers for good.”

“Too boring. But here, this is interesting.” He lightly tapped the case, his fingerprint-less fingers not leaving a smudge. “What do you notice?”

“A pile of old gold.” Then I frowned, peering closer. “That’s a wolf marking. At least on that one coin.”

“The rest are similarly marked, but the artful tumble of coins makes it hard to discern.” He nodded. “And this tiara. A truly fine piece wouldn’t you say? Austrian, as it happens.”

I frowned at him, then squinted at the gold again. “The placard says it was found in a basement, original ownership unknown.”

“Let’s just say that I’ve long had a personal interest in beautiful things.” He gestured to another case, filled with a gleaming panel of intricately worked gold and amber shaped into a cross. “These all came from the same location.”

I frowned at the ornate Russian cross. “But they’re different sellers.”

“Shell houses. Though no one is questioning it, not this year.” Kreios nodded. “This year, buyers are less choosy. Many of these pieces are reworked bits of old gold and jewels that were never part of the original pieces.”

“But reworked gold is less valuable.”

“Correct, in most markets, if that was the gold’s sole attribute. It’s not. Not here. Not among these people, this year.” He pointed back to the original pile of gold. “It’s a werewolf, if that helps.”

It didn’t. I frowned, searching back in my memory banks for a reference to werewolf gold. When I came upon it, I blinked. “No.”

“Indeed,” Kreios said with satisfaction. “I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner. There is a great deal of stolen gold stored away in the coffers of the very, very rich. Gold that is now getting sold in the face of an immediate need for other things that money can buy. Perhaps protection, perhaps technology. Either way, this is a prime example of that kind of sell-off. Someone is off-loading their Nazi hoard at the Rarity. Quickly and completely. And these collectors know it. The savvier ones anyway.”

“But anyone could see this, anyone with knowledge of the missing artifacts. It’s in the open—even the general public got an eyeful today.”

“People see what they want to see, sometimes. And sometimes they see what they’re expected to see.”

I stared at him. “Armaeus?”

He smiled. “Not this time.” Kreios waved his hand in front of the case again, and a queasy shift of vertigo hit me, the sense of the seeing double. When I looked again at the gold, it seemed almost the same. Almost, but not quite. There were no marks on it anymore, and the tiara appeared strangely…plainer. “What was that?”