Playing Against Type: Soulgirls, Book 4 (11 page)

God, if he kissed her like that in the elevator, would they even make it to the room? If Finn noticed her distraction or the chaos reigning in her mind, he didn’t let on. He escorted her out of the theatre and detoured away from the shops and milling crowds hurrying through the lobby. At the elevator, he pressed the button for their floor. They weren’t alone; six others rode the elevator with then—trickling off in ones or twos. The last passenger got off on the floor before theirs.

Pepper didn’t quite race out of the elevator when it opened on their floor, but came close. Finn kept up with her and walked her all the way to the door. Turning back to look at him, she held her key in her hand. If she planned to turn him down, better to do it in the hallway. Panic jostled with desire. It wasn’t that she didn’t like kissing him, but first kisses should be slow and sweet and tender, not mind-erasing, soul-searing passion.

Finn tugged the keycard out of her hand and slid it into the door, the lock released and he passed the card back to her while he held the door open. “Good night, Pepper.”

With nowhere else to go, she backed into her room. “Good night, Finn.”

He didn’t follow, but he didn’t let go of the door. His gaze swept past her and skimmed the room. “Would you like to have breakfast in the morning?”

Her heart did a somersault. “Um…sure?”

“You don’t have to,” he added. “I can wait as long as lunch to see you, if you want to sleep in.”

Heat rose in her cheeks. He
wanted
to see her. “I think breakfast would be lovely. I’ll make sure to order enough for two.”

Another slow smile curved his lips. “You do that. Go on in and lock your door. I’ll wait until I hear the security latch lock in place.”

“Okay.” She swallowed, her uncertainty returning. But she wasn’t ready to invite him in. The other girls liked to play, and she was no prude. Retreating another step, she closed the door and flipped the bar to secure it. Sneaking a look through the peephole, she found he stood there, his arm stretched out like his hand was still on the door. For the barest of moments, she imagined he could see her peering at him. He winked and walked away.

Turning around, Pepper slid down the door until she sat on the floor. Disappointment filled her at letting him go, even if it was the right decision. No one fell in love with just one kiss. But lust? Oh, she had that in spades. “Oh boy.”

Big trouble.

Chapter Eight

Kissing her had tempted fate, but leaving Pepper at her room had tempted Finn’s self-control more. He wanted to make sure no spells lingered, waiting to snap closed, and take her over. That was his excuse, anyway. Finn bypassed his room and went straight to the elevators. Connor went to uncomfortable lengths to speak to him, and it was time to face the demon on his turf.

Riding the elevator past the Palo to the
true
roof, he stepped out into a terraced garden. Waterfalls spilled into pools surrounded by lush foliage. The air crackled with magic, the glamour overlaying the physical objects stuttered at his arrival. Sliding his hands into his pockets, Finn walked across the bridge separating the elevator doors from the garden. For all intents and purposes, it appeared this oasis rested on the roof of the Arcana Royale. But he would bet if he went over to the edge, the sprawl around them would only be desert—no Las Vegas.

He frowned at the sheer amount of magic they spent on this nonsense.
Leave it.
Telling himself to let it go and actually forgetting it were two different things, however. He brushed too close to a flowering bush, and the buds blackened at the tips and wilted.

“Those are extremely rare. Try not to touch too many, would you?” Connor strolled into the clearing from the opposite side of what might be a door, but looked like a tree. “And sorry for the decor, the others prefer to remember a simpler time.” The demon was taller than Finn, but only just. He dressed in unrelieved black despite the potency of the sun blazing overhead.

The tropical garden shimmered and peeled away, revealing a very ordinary wrought iron garden table and four chairs. Connor motioned for him to sit as he flipped one of the chairs around and straddled it. “Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll pass. What do you want?” He had no interest in sharing a beer with the bastard.

“You really have blended in completely with the humans, haven’t you?” If he meant it as an insult, it rolled right off of Finn. He enjoyed his work. It had meaning, purpose, and helped others.

“I don’t have all night. What do you want?” If he had to ask a third time, he would leave. And let the demon to try and stop him for all the good it would do.

“I want answers to a few questions and then I might have a proposal for you.” Connor straightened, his blue-black gaze sharp and assessing. He played the dilettante, but he wasn’t without claws.

“I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”

“Charming. I’ll trade you answer for answer.”

Connor didn’t accept the counteroffer immediately, his expression careful and calculating. “Truth for truth?”

“I have no reason to lie.” He meant it, but a warning bell clanged inside of him. He did have one reason, a sliver of one formed in the last twenty-four hours. Ignoring the unease in the idea, he pushed it aside.

“And I have every reason. But I will give you a truth for a truth—within the bounds of reason.”

“Define the bounds of your so-called reason.” Yes, his mother taught him the fine art of negotiation. Just because he didn’t like it didn’t mean he didn’t know how to use it.

“Well done.” Connor inclined his head. An amber drink appeared on the table next to him, frothy foam capping the beer. “I will give you the truth in a form that harms no preconditions of the Overseers or the Arcana Royale itself.”

“In other words, a big fat lot of nothing. You
are
an Overseer. My knowing already violates your rules.”

The demon shrugged. “It is what it is, Finn. You can accept the truth I can give you or you can walk away. I believe you know where the door is.”

It would serve the son of a bitch right if he turned around and walked out. But the opportunity to interrogate the demon wouldn’t come easily again. “Fine. Truth for a truth—within the bounds of my reason.”

Connor’s face tightened, irritation flaring in his gaze. “I will give you the courtesy of the first question.”

Courtesy my ass. If I ask one, he automatically gets one. Which means he thinks I won’t answer his question.
“Did the Overseers execute Marguerite DuBois?” He threw down the verbal gauntlet.

The demon answered succinctly. “No.”
 

And of course, you’re not elaborating.
Served him right for asking a simple yes or no question. But the answer didn’t sound like a lie, it didn’t even seem to phase the demon to say it out loud.

“My turn.” Connor paused to take a long drink of his beer. “What is your relationship to the woman, Pepper Kirk?”

Years of interrogation and surveillance experience kept Finn’s face smooth. He didn’t dare reveal the ripple in his armor. The question didn’t shock him so much as how quickly Connor fired the volley. He had to know she mattered in some way or he would never have possessed her in the first place.

“I just met her.” The honest answer would have to do. “We don’t have a relationship beyond the passing acquaintance of ships in the night, which you no doubt arranged.” It was a guess, but also what he’d come to expect of the Overseers.

Connor, however, wasn’t admitting to anything. “You were willing to go to war just over the mere idea that I possessed her. If you didn’t care, you would have ignored me altogether. Yet, here you stand. Truth for truth, Finn.” The demon’s smile grew. “And that was not all of the truth.”

“And yet it’s still the truth. How did Marguerite DuBois die?”

“She took her own life.” Again, the swift smoothness of the answer told Finn there was far more to the story. “Do you want there to be more between you and Miss Kirk?”

“I want her to leave the Royale before she gets sucked into one of your ridiculous games.” It didn’t really answer his question, though the sentiment skated the fine line of truth, and he’d already tried to get her to leave. She thought he was a nutjob. “What happened that she felt she had to take her own life?”

Connor’s gaze lowered. The question gave him a reason to pause. “She conspired with the Prince of Las Vegas to detain the Prince of New York’s bride. Her prurient course of action was not to the benefit of the Royale, but a private matter altogether. Not what we wished for.”

His mother was dead. The news ricocheted around inside of him, too slippery to settle either in disappointment or grief. If anything, it failed to surprise him at all. He never expected her to die of old age, a witch as powerful as she could extend her life for centuries—and she had. That he survived her passing seemed more remarkable.

“What would you give me to get out from under her thumb once and for all?” The demon smiled, and why wouldn’t he? There wasn’t much Finn wouldn’t trade.

Pepper couldn’t sleep. She showered, blew dry her hair, brushed it until it shined and yet sleep continued to elude her. Darkness was the time she came to life. If she were downstairs in the lounge, they would just be completing their second show of the night and retreating back to their cells for the after party. They would laugh and play. Her hotel room was too empty. None of the casual noise of twenty other women chattering, drinking, dancing and teasing.

Her arm hurt. A twinge of pain in the forearm, like a pinch piercing the inside beneath the muscle. A pop of noise behind her dragged her attention around and Minion sat on the middle of Pepper’s bed. “Boring room.”

“Hello, darlin’.” Pepper put the pain out of her mind and opened her arms wide. The little imp scampered over and flung herself into the hug.

“Hi hi. Heidi wants you to come downstairs right away.” Minion bounced away to rattle a plastic bag that slipped between the bed and the wall. Apparently the valet missed one of the purchases.

“Oh.” Butterflies assaulted her stomach. Was her task done? Had Finn left? She expected a sense of euphoria over returning to the theatre and the curse, but disappointment niggled. “I’ll change and pack.” Not that she had much to pack, just some toiletries and her shoes. The rest had been waiting for her in the room.

“Oh, you don’t need to pack. It’s just tea and talk. Heidi’s pretty steamed about something.” Minion poked her head up, the silver and agate necklace Pepper found in the shop around her neck. “Not at you. But she does want to talk to you and you can go down like that. Those are very pretty pajamas and no one would know they are pajamas.”

The midnight blue Japanese blouse and bottoms were silk and very comfortable, but they weren’t proper evening attire. “I should still change.”

“Nope, don’t do it. Just put on the pretty black slipper shoe thingies and walk with your head up—you know Pandora said that. If you strut, everyone thinks you belong and you look great.”

Pepper didn’t quite snort in response. No way would she walk through the lobby without at least some foundation, powder and a touch of lipstick. But out of deference to Heidi, she sped through the process. Fifteen minutes later, she hurried across the lobby to the theatre. She’d experienced more than her share of nerves passing Finn’s room, but Minion chatted amiably in her ear and rode on her shoulder.

What if the FBI agent glanced out of his door and saw the little creature? Maybe Heidi arranged it so it wouldn’t happen, but that didn’t stop her from sprinting past his door and doing an impatient dance at the elevator. She had two heart stopping moments, the first when the elevator doors opened on her floor and the second at the lobby.

She assumed Finn went back to his room, but what if he hadn’t? Her heart didn’t stop jackhammering until she made it through the double doors of the darkened theatre past the private backstage door where Stan waited to let her in. Music vibrated up the steps, the girls partied down below.

Despite her desire to hang out with them, she paused at Heidi’s office door and knocked.

She didn’t have to wait long before Heidi’s muffled “come in,” beckoned her inside. Finding herself in Heidi’s office twice in as many days was disconcerting enough, but it seemed like ages since she last walked through the door into the bookshelf lined room with its overstuffed shelves.

Could it really have only been a little over a day?

“Pepper, sit down.” Heidi sat at her desk, pouring over some great book. Her riot of curls were pulled back into a tight ponytail, and she wore the most casual clothes Pepper had ever seen her in—blue jeans and a ruby blouse. Glitter decorated her face and smeared down one cheek. If Pepper didn’t know better, she would describe her as harried.

Minion bounced from Pepper’s shoulder to the desk. Heidi spared her a look. “That will be all, Minion. Back to your kennel.”

The imp’s ears drooped. “But I did exactly what you said…”
 

“Yes, you did. You also stole Pepper’s necklace. Give it back and go to your kennel. We will discuss your liberties tomorrow.” Heidi flipped the page, the tiny imp clearly dismissed. Minion muttered, but she bounced over and dropped the agate necklace into Pepper’s palm and vanished in a
poof
of sulfur.