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Authors: Lucy Kelly

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Between HeVan and Hell

BOOK: Between HeVan and Hell
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Between HeVan and
Hell

Book 2 of the
Nephilim

By: Lucy Kelly

Edited By: Caroline
Kirby

Published by: JK Publishing
LLC

Smashwords Edition, License
Notes

This eBook is licensed for your
personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given
away to other people. If you would like to share this book with
another person, please purchase an additional copy for each
recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or
it was not purchased for your use only, then, please return to
Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting
the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names,
places, characters and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance
to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or
locales are entirely coincidental.

© Copyright August 2012
MvN. All rights reserved.

All cover art and logo ©
Copyright 2012 by JK Publishing

No part of this book may
be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any
means without the written permission of the author.

Thank you to all of you who read the
first book and liked it. I received many emails of encouragement
and I really appreciate it. I’d also like to thank my good friend
Victoria, for keeping me going when I was stressed out and helping
me so much. Victoria, this one’s for you.

Lucy Kelly

Contact me at
[email protected]

Visit me at
http://www.facebook.com/authorlucykelly

Check out upcoming events on
http://www.lucykellyauthor.com

Mark of the Nephilim logo ©
Copyright 2012 by MvN

Chapter
One

Graciela Perez glanced at the clock
and then shifted her weight from one foot to the other—again. She
was working undercover at Hell; it was the newest casinos on the
river and rumored to be laundering money. It was against the law in
Illinois to gamble, unless you fell under the Riverboat Gambling
Act. There were one or two gambling boats that made their way up
and down the river, but they were mostly pleasure cruises with some
gambling thrown in for atmosphere. The casinos were permanently
docked so people could find them and once you stepped on board, you
couldn’t even tell you were on the river.

She dealt out another hand of
blackjack. The décor was beautiful; the commercial carpeting had
the look and feel of an expensive Aubusson in colors of black,
maroon, blue, and gold. The tables were all carved mahogany with
slate tops and green baize. The print on the tables was understated
and classy. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the more
prosaic twenty-first century lighting hidden behind decorative wall
sconces or recessed in the ceiling’s plasterwork. That plasterwork
also hid the cameras that were aimed at each and every table. All
the sit-down games had comfortable, leather chairs. There were even
separate facilities for cigarette and cigar smokers. She wondered
idly who they’d bribed to get that approved, as smoking was not
allowed in businesses or restaurants in Illinois.

Another hour and I’ll be
able to clock out and go home, get out of the Grace Kelsey skin for
a while and back into my own,
she
thought.

They had her working the three to
midnight shift until she finished her training. Then she’d get the
eleven p.m. to six a.m. shift. She dealt another round of cards to
the players and then her own. She was only three days into this
assignment, and already she was wishing for the comfort of the
surveillance van. Sure, sitting in a van for hours at a stretch,
watching your liquid intake so you wouldn’t have to pee too
frequently could get old. But at least it didn’t kill your
arches.

She wondered why she always ended up
in spiked heels showing a lot of leg. Standing five foot nine in
her bare feet, she had a lot of leg to show. Her sister, Addie, had
always envied her inches, and she had secretly envied Addie’s
gorgeous auburn hair. Addie took after their mother’s side of the
family, and she took after their father’s. Her skin had the dusky
tone of a Latino heritage, though she still sported a dusting of
freckles. Where Addie’s eyes were green, her eyes were almost black
and her hair was a shiny brown, so dark that it looked black and
very straight. She could never get it to hold a curl.

She spoke to her players as she paid
out the winners and scooped up the chips from the
losers.


It’s the cards, gentlemen,
don’t blame me,” she said, pointing to the plastic horns on her
head. “They’re just there to hold up the halo. I swear.”

The players chuckled at her lame joke
as she dealt yet another hand.

Grace remembered when she first made
detective; she was posted to vice. She thought she’d be busting
numbers games and drug dealers, but no, not her. She had to walk
the street as a prostitute, busting tourists and slobs from the
suburbs coming into the City for a little ‘fun on the side'. They
hadn’t even set her up as a high-class call girl and gone for the
deep pockets. Nooo, she had to walk the stroll in hot pants and
high heels in March, when it was still snowing. She almost went to
her union rep on that one. She’d been relieved when the hazing from
the others in the unit was finally over; she was one of the guys
now. Up until she’d been pulled for this assignment, she had been
working mostly sex crimes. She was an expert interviewer of both
victims and their abusers.

She took another look around as she
collected the chips from the losers and paid out the winners. Just
then the pit boss walked up behind her with another dealer and had
her switch out.

“What’s up, Gregor?” she asked. “I’ve
got another hour on my shift.”

“Mr. Kadyrov is having a private game
in the back and he wants you to deal. Come with me,” he said,
moving towards the back.

As she followed him, she
thought,
Hot damn! Maybe I’ll get
something tonight.

There were three reasons she’d been
picked for this assignment. First, she’d been working the 5th
district over on the Far South Side for almost her entire career as
a cop. She wasn’t known in this district and was less likely to
have her cover blown.

Second, she had a great memory. Since
they hadn’t figured out a way to wiretap the casino, the fact that
she could accurately remember conversations up to four hours later
was a great skill, which gave them a big advantage.

And last, she looked great in Hell’s
mandatory uniform. She was stuck wearing red, spiked heels, red boy
shorts and a red corset with black trim. Oh, and she couldn’t
forget the fake devil horns in her hair, and the swinging devil
tail attached to her shorts. Even now, following Gregor, some drunk
tried to catch hold and pull her by the tail. Fortunately she was
prepared and avoided him quite easily.

Setting the place up to look like an
English Regency-era gambling hell was classy. Guess a lot of the
customers didn’t get why it was called ‘Hell’— hence, the cheesy
costumes the dealers and cocktail waitresses had to wear. At least
the male dealers got to wear long pants.

They reached a door with a guard in
front of it and a red velvet rope. The guard removed the rope, and
Gregor opened the door and gestured her inside. This was the
high-roller room. No commercial high-traffic carpeting in here. She
could feel her heels sink into the deep pile. The room had a
lighter feel because of the pale blue, silk wallpaper. There were
no prints on the walls, only actual oil paintings and a beautiful
chandelier that dropped down from the high ceiling. The table was
polished cherry—no felt top—it was an antique. Each of the chairs
was large and comfortable, upholstered in Ox-blood-red leather.
Next to each chair, there was a small occasional table with an
inlaid top for drinks or anything else the player wanted to keep on
hand.

“Ah, Miss Kelsey, please join us,”
said Mr. Kadyrov. Vasily Kadyrov was her main target. When you
first met him, you saw an old man with a full head of nearly white
hair, sharp, gray eyes and the straight bearing of a soldier. He
was only five-nine; the same as her own height, but his posture
made him look taller. He spoke softly and often used kind and
gentle words. She wasn’t deceived; the sharp, shrewd eyes gave him
away. They were as cold as winter; even the kindest words couldn’t
soften them. She was always surprised that others didn’t see what
she could so clearly. His grandson, Anton, was his carbon copy but
a younger, less refined version. He was an inch taller with black
hair and those same scary eyes.

“Good evening, Mr. Kadyrov. I’m told
you need a dealer?” asked Grace.

“But, of course. We have a friendly,
little game between associates. And a chance to look at a pretty
girl at the same time,” he said.

BOOK: Between HeVan and Hell
11.3Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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