Gambling on Her Bear (Shifters in Vegas) (3 page)

Anyway, that woman was no good for him. The minute he was done with Vegas, he’d head home and settle down with a nice she-bear from his clan, not a spitfire who couldn’t hold her tongue.

He grinned in spite of himself, just thinking of some of her lines.

You’re looking pale,
he’d heard her say to a vampire.
Why don’t you get some sun?

When he’d asked if the ground was too hard that night they’d spent under the stars, all she’d said was,
I can bearly feel it.
Then she’d grinned, delighted with herself.
Get it?

Yeah, he got it all right. Everything she said or did seemed to go right to his heart.

“Someone’s in love.” Randy, the gay bartender, chuckled at him.

Tanner scowled and checked his watch. He wasn’t in love. He was almost late for his second round of the casino. Time to get moving.

“See you soon, baby?” Amber clutched at his sleeve.

He slipped away, straightening his tie. “Sure,” he murmured, striding quickly across the floor.

He could feel Amber watching his ass — Amber or Randy, or worse, both of them. He turned the corner as fast as he could, squinting as he went. The slot machine hall was lit by the brightest, most hysterical lights in the entire casino. The sounds that accompanied them were just as bad: the crank of a slot machine arm, the pings and rattles as the cylinders turned, the firehouse alarms that announced the occasional win.

“Come on. Come on…” A balding hedgehog shifter pulled a handle and murmured as apple and orange symbols flashed before his eyes.

“Just one more time,” a young man told his girlfriend, feeding yet another quarter into the slot.

Tanner shook his head. When would they learn? Gambling never paid.

“My lucky night,” a tattooed man said, grinning at the glassy-eyed raccoon shifter at the machine next to his. The raccoon was in human form, but just barely. The rings around his eyes were dark and heavy, and his nose twitched.

Tanner double-checked the human’s face for any sign of shock or recognition of the shifter, but the magic was holding up. The vampires who owned the casino hired a couple of witches to lace their casino with just enough magic to keep the human guests blind to any slip in shape from the handful of paranormals in their midst.

Tanner glanced toward the nearest security camera. The feed went right to a control room staffed by two — a vampire security guard and a witch who kept an eye on the cloaking spell. He scowled. The only paranormal being you could trust less than a vampire was a witch, and he hated both.

So what the hell was he doing, working for the bloodsuckers who owned this joint?

Watching. Waiting.
The words of the clan elders echoed in his ears.
Planning for exactly the right moment to strike.

He glanced at his watch again — not the time, but the date. If all went as planned, he’d have his chance in forty-eight hours. Everything was arranged, down to the last detail. As long as nothing unexpected arose, he would finally be done with his mission.

The problem was, this was Vegas, where the unexpected was pretty much par for the course.

He threaded his way past the crowds at the slot machines and continued into the roulette hall, staying vigilant. The vampires had hired him as security, and he couldn’t let on that he had ulterior motives. Not until the moment came to act on his carefully laid plans.

“Rien ne va plus.”
A silver ball flashed as the dealer at the nearest table called for last bets.

Half a dozen hopeful faces followed the ball as it rolled around and around, and he hid a hopeless shake of the head. Didn’t they know the tables were rigged?

The dealer grinned, showing fangs none of the humans noticed. Another vampire. Tanner figured he’d never get used to vampires, and he’d never, ever consider one harmless. Not even this one — a vampire low on the local totem pole.

He meandered through the hall, checking the guests, the dealers, the wait staff.

“Suspect everyone,” the big boss, Igor Schiller, had told him when he’d first been hired.

It had taken all of his self-control not to blurt back something like,
Starting with you.

Not that he feared the vampires physically. It would take several vampires to overwhelm a bear of his size, for one thing. And secondly, Tanner was off-limits as vampire prey.

“Company policy,” Schiller had said. “No feeding off employees.”

As if that made him feel better. But he’d nodded and played along, because he had to. To Schiller, he had to be just another big, dumb bear looking for a security job. And it had worked. He’d quickly moved up the ranks to exactly the position he needed to pull off the job he had in mind. The vampires had pulled a sneaky move to try to steal rights to a swath of pristine wilderness that bordered his clan’s property, so it was only fair for Tanner to plot a sneaky move to secure that land once and for all.

Forty-eight hours from now, he’d do just that. If things went as planned. If he kept his cool. If the vampires’ suspicions weren’t aroused.

A hell of a lot of ifs.
His bear shook his head.

He scratched his ear in hearty agreement. Bears were risk averse, meticulous planners — hell, you had to be if you wanted to hibernate for six months of the year. Not that Tanner ever did, but it was in his blood.

A bear that plans ahead, gets ahead,
his dad used to say.

In fact, just about every bear in the Rockies said that. And if the young up-and-comers ever complained about life being predictable or boring or dull, the elders would shoot them right down.

Predictable means your plans were well laid
.
Careful means you’ll never be burned. Boring means safe.

And they were right, as every bear learned sooner or later. Tanner sure had. He couldn’t wait to get home and live the good life again.

“Lucky number sixteen!” a man shouted, raising a fist as the roulette ball came to rest.

Tanner strode on, nodded to the security guy in the corner, and moved on to the blackjack room.

Business as usual?
he asked the quick-handed panther shifter dealing cards in the back corner, shooting the question right into his mind.

Dex took care not to look directly at him, answering with a tiny nod.
Another couple of days of this shit and we’re out of here.

He didn’t approach Dex’s table because the vampires were vigilant, and if they realized he and the panther were up to something, they’d both be shit out of luck.

Another forty-eight hours.
He nodded.

The countdown begins,
Dex replied as he turned over a card.

“Ace. Twenty-one,” Dex announced to the customers at his table.

“Shit!” The man in the middle seat punched the table and threw down his cards.

“Sir,” Dex murmured in warning as he swept a pile of chips away.

“What? I’m sick of this shit,” the sore loser went on, leaping to his feet.

Two security guards — humans — moved in, flanking the man. Big, linebacker types who stood eye to eye with the equally burly guest.

“Why don’t you come with us?” one of the guards said.

The man only grew angrier. “I swear this place is rigged. I’m fucking tired of being cheated!”

Tanner sighed. No, these blackjack tables weren’t rigged. They had just had extremely crafty dealers, like Dex — the accomplice his entire plan hinged on.

The security guards reached for the man’s arms, but he jerked away. He stood tall, practically steaming from the ears, and threw his hands up in a ready-to-attack pose.

“You trying to intimidate me? I know karate! I know jui-jitsu!”

The nearest guests backed away, while others turned in eager anticipation of a fight.

Tanner moved in and fixed the man with a glare.

“I can take you,” the human went on, then faltered when he saw Tanner looming a few inches above the other two. “I can… Um, I…” he stuttered, waving his hands.

You’ll what?
Tanner let his eyes say. He squared his shoulders, letting them strain at the fabric of his suit.

The man’s eyes widened, and Tanner nearly chuckled. He’d love to see the guy react to his bear coming out, but of course, he couldn’t do that. Didn’t need those extra couple of inches, anyway. His human form was enough.

The man’s shoulders slumped as his eyes hit the floor in submission, a gesture Tanner had seen so often in his time. Even at home with the bears of his clan, it was a regular occurrence. His cousin might be the one poised to take over as alpha someday, but Tanner was the peace-keeper — the powerhouse everyone counted on to get jobs done.

“I’ll just be going now,” the sore loser murmured, following the guards’ gesture toward the casino doors.

Dex opened a fresh deck of cards and tapped them on the blackjack table. “Next round, ladies and gentlemen. Next round.”

And just like that, it was back to business as usual. At least, for about thirty seconds, when the piercing sound of a fire alarm shot through Tanner’s earpiece.

He winced and tapped it, moving into a service hall out of sight of the guests.

“Confirm alarm. Confirm,” he barked into the tiny mouthpiece.

“Fire alarms registering on the twenty-eighth floor,” the guard reported. “Wait — and the twenty-seventh, too.”

Feet pounded down the hallway as the casino’s crisis crew jumped into action. Calling the police or fire department was always a last resort in a place run by vampires.

“What does Code Blue say?” he demanded.

Code Blue was their code name for Cassandra, the aging witch with the dye job gone wrong who sat in the control room, keeping an eye on the casino along with the guards. Or keeping as much of an eye out as an aging witch could be expected to while clacking away at her knitting.

“She’s calling it a Type Four fire. She’s trying to fight it now.”

His brow furrowed. Type Four meant a fire kindled by supernatural means, not a dropped cigarette or short-circuit kind of fire. And the witch
trying
to fight it most likely meant failing, because good witches were hard to find, a fact his boss constantly bemoaned.

Tanner headed for the stairwell and bounded up the stairs, catching up with the crisis crew easily. Tenth floor…fifteenth…seventeenth…

“Intruder! Intruder alert!” a new report sounded in his ear.

A fire and an intruder? What was going on?

“Which floor?”

“Twenty-ninth.”

The penthouse level? What thief would be crazy enough to sneak into a vampire’s private apartment? And not just any vampire, but Igor Schiller, the sneakiest, most bloodthirsty, most malicious vampire of them all. The man toyed with humans the way a cat did with its prey. Even Tanner got the creeps around that man. A good thing Schiller was off at a gala dinner. Tanner didn’t need to deal with an intruder and Igor Schiller at the same time.

“Crew six to the fire,” he told the guard. “Crew four to the penthouse.”

“They’re already on it,” the guard confirmed.

His skin prickled in warning as he neared the penthouse, and he wondered who the intruder was. A rival vampire, maybe? A powerful supernatural of some kind? But truly, what was there to steal in Schiller’s apartment other than some really bad art?

He slammed open the fire door at the penthouse level. The moment he stepped into the hall, he heard a woman yell. She was angry, all right. Downright incensed. Furious. Which she’d have every right to be, if she was Elvira, Schiller’s bloodsucking consort who shared the penthouse with his boss.

But it wasn’t Elvira. This woman’s voice was lower. Stronger. Huskier. This woman’s voice reached deep into his soul and warmed every drop of blood instead of turning it to ice.

He stiffened in incredulous recognition. No way. It couldn’t be.

“Get your dirty hands off me!” the woman yelled, making the bison shifter guard coming around a corner wince. Tanner stood rooted to the spot, hoping against hope that the person who appeared next wasn’t who he thought it must be. She ought to have been miles away from Vegas by now.

“Or should I say, get your dirty hooves off me. Off!” the woman snapped.

Another guard appeared, pulling someone along by the arm.

“I can walk, you know.”

The thinner arm the guard was holding wrenched itself free, and the woman stepped into view, holding her head high.

She moved with a regal step, like a queen. Not in the snobby, new-money way Elvira did, but with an understated, old-world kind of class that came naturally. Her auburn hair shone reddish-black, and even the fluorescent lights couldn’t flatten that rich color out. Her lips were full and wide, her cheeks flushed.

Mate!
His inner bear jumped up and down in glee.
Mate!

Karen. God, it really was her. The woman he’d met two weeks ago—

One week, five days, and eleven hours,
his bear corrected absently.

—the woman he’d lost his heart to on their very first night together. Their only night together, because everything afterward had gone wrong. Schiller had sent him to supervise an unscheduled delivery of new chips, and when he returned, he discovered Karen had been taken captive by the vampires. He’d spent a week tearing his hair out trying to figure out some way to free her without blowing his cover and sabotaging any hope he had of getting the money his clan needed. But then her sister had come along and sprung her first, and he figured that was fate’s way of assuring him Karen wasn’t his destined mate.

Now, he wasn’t so sure.

“I said, let me go!” Karen jerked away from the guard and turned his way.

God, she was beautiful when she was mad. Almost the same kind of beautiful as when she was aroused. He knew. He’d seen her. Held her. Touched her until she came in a shattering high that had him flying out of control too, making him imagine all kinds of impossible things. Like falling in love with a stranger at first sight. Like knowing his life would never be the same. Like wondering if she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. As in, forever.

The second she saw him, her eyes narrowed, and she stopped dead in her tracks.