Temptress (5 page)

Tank offered me his arm, and I let him lead me toward the doors. If he weren’t so recognizable, we’d look like any other couple headed back to our room after a night on the town. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Either way we were in mission mode and I didn’t have time to worry about whatever was between us. He cast his gaze around and the rigid muscles in his arm said he was ready if things went off.

Backup. That would be a change.

Steve waited in the lobby, shifting back and forth and looking fidgety for security. As soon as he caught my eye, he strode for us, sneaking an earpiece into my hand as he passed. I popped it in, but didn’t have long to wait.

“Jenny? You ready?” Steve’s voice came through the link. I nodded and he continued. “We’ve had slots paying jackpots all night, and there’s definitely a team running our tables, but we can’t figure out how they’re scamming. The cameras are patchy, and our guys on the floor can’t nail anyone. The two main suspects are in the high-stakes poker room.”

I nodded again, leading Tank toward the VIP area. “You play poker?”

“Some,” Tank said.

“Good. I’ll buy you in.” I tugged him through the crowds, toward the cage for the high-stakes players. Late as it was getting, plenty of die-hards had money to burn. Slots pinged and flickered, and thinner, but more intense, groups clustered around gaming tables.

The girl behind the cage bars jumped to attention. “What can we do for you, Ms. Ray?”

I fished out my wallet and flipped through the casino cards. Tank snorted, but I nudged his hip to silence him. So what if I had a card for every casino on the strip? Though I did need to alphabetize them. After a lot more thumbing through, I pulled out the Player’s Club card and slid it across the counter. “I need twenty grand in chips, please.”

“Yes, ma’am. You’re buying-in to poker this evening?” She set out even stacks of black-striped $100 chips.

“Is there an open seat?” Though I knew they were still playing, it was a little late to buy in to a new game.

“Yes. One of the tables just finished a game. They’re restarting momentarily. Shall I take your chips over?”

“Please,” I said.

The girl bustled out of the cage, motioning for us to follow to the poker room. I pulled at Tank, slowing us down.

“High-roller, huh?” Tank lifted an eyebrow. “Didn’t know casino security paid that well. Maybe I should change careers.”

“Like you could be anything other than a hero.” He was the one who’d asked me why I gave up the glory of the capture. Only a terminal hero would ever come up with that. “And we have to give the money back, so don’t blow it. Just play while I figure out who’s breaking the rules. Wait. Can you do this without your powers?” It hadn’t occurred to me sooner, but he’d have a hard time if he usually relied on mind reading.

“I never used my powers for cards.” His voice was disapproving.

“Just checking.” Though I probably should’ve known. I was definitely planning to use his powers, but I wasn’t in the game. From the sidelines, I’d be able to find the cheaters before the first round of drinks came out. Even so, I tapped two fingers against my neck, giving Steve the signal we were going in.

The room reeked of money, and it had to if it wanted to justify the twenty grand buy-in. All mahogany and leather, the tables shined, and the few guests had more labels than a NASCAR race. One of the tables was just settling in, and the cage girl waited in front of an open seat with my chips and a Grey Goose martini. They knew me too well. I sipped and offered Tank the chair.

“Anything for you, sir?” A table attendant slipped into the vacated spot by the cage girl’s departure.

“Bruchladdich. 1970?"

“Right away, sir.” The girl ducked away while I tried not to splutter. Scotch wasn’t my forte, but that had to be a few hundred dollars a glass. Apparently, he was serious about playing high roller.

Whether it was the order or Tank’s voice, the men at the table turned and immediately recognized Mr. Hero. As the handshaking commenced, I slipped into a chair at the back of the room. I’d been wondering if we should play couple, but this would be easier. Pouty, overlooked girlfriend worked to my advantage.

My earpiece crackled. “You’re on camera, but the signal’s shit. You’ve got Mr. Han on your right. He’s a regular.” That would be the Chinese businessman with the sultry redhead draped over his shoulder. “And Ron Merchant has played with us before. He’s in the tie. The other two are new players. Han and the blond cleaned up last game.”

As I stirred my drink, I scoped out the table. Merchant was a big-time software guy that I recognized from the
Wall Street Journal
. He’d shaken Tank’s hand like they were in a boardroom before settling into his chair.

The two men in the middle of the table were the suspected troublemakers. One was tall with straight-out-of-Scandinavia blond hair and blue eyes. The second was dark-skinned in a white suit and gold and diamond Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses that ran about four hundred grand a pair.

“No powers during the game,” Tank assured the table as the dealer shuffled the deck. “You have my word.” The others nodded, but blondie was sweating.

I closed my eyes, slipping into Tank’s powers with a deep breath. I managed not to wince. Blondie’s first hand was a pair of kings, but his internal monologue wasn’t so hot.

—shit shit shit shit shit. Fucking Thinktank. He’ll see through me in thirty seconds. Dammit, Deena!

The tone of his mental voice shifted, and the redhead with Mr. Han glanced his way. A telepath?

Get Drake and Chance in here now! We’re gonna have to run.

The redhead, Deena, leaned to whisper in Mr. Han’s ear, showing serious cleavage to the table before swaying away.
I’ll get them. Keep it together.

She seemed to be thinking at him rather than projecting, but there was no way to tell if she was super. She could be a civilian in on the scheme. Either way, it was nice of her to bring all the accomplices to one place. Drake even sounded familiar. Where had I heard that name before?

I quieted my thoughts just in case Blondie swept the room, but he kept up his stream of curses as the game progressed. Kind of single-minded for a telepath.

As soon as I set my empty glass on a side table, the attendant replaced it with a fresh one. This time I stirred but didn’t drink. I could hold my alcohol like any good super, but it had been a long night, and one more would be one too many.

With his premium scotch and champion poker face, Tank was in his element. He won more than he lost, but the hands split evenly around the table. Merchant and Shades were doing as well as Tank, while Blondie and Mr. Han took a beating. Both of their chip stacks were shorter when Deena shimmied back into the room.

No one had followed her, but a faint haze hung in the air like the heat that rose from asphalt. Blondie gave a mental sigh of relief. My gaze couldn’t lock on the patch, but it had to be something. Or someone? Not even X-ray vision would penetrate. Gritting my teeth against the headache, I concentrated Tank’s energy into a point.

Two sets of thoughts bubbled from the gap. One was so full of statistics it made my teeth ache, while the second stole my breath.

Jenny? Is that you?

He wasn’t speaking to me, just thinking about me. But why did he know my name? And why was his mental voice so familiar? It had a southern twang that made my chest sting.

Damn. You look better than I remember. Ah. And you can sense me too? Must’ve got yourself some new powers since I saw you last.

I frowned and turned back to the table. Who was this? Blondie glanced over his shoulder.
Drake! Damn it. Blank our thoughts before this guy crushes us!

Thinktank, huh? We can do something about that, but he’s not the one you should be worried about…

The thoughts fizzled out. All of them. The whole room. Blondie’s shoulders slumped, and even Deena relaxed, flashing more cleavage as she gave Mr. Han another whisper. As she glanced to Blondie, her gaze locked on mine for a second too long.

My pulse kicked into overdrive. They knew who I was. If it came to a fight, it was four to two. Or four to one and a half. Maybe Tank could handle himself, but without his powers, he was at a disadvantage. Especially since we didn’t know what the others could do.

I tugged my right ear. If the cameras were working, Steve would get his guys in position. If the invisible posse was also blocking the casino’s tech…then this was going to hit the fan hard. All I got from the earpiece was static.

So much for backup.

Drink in hand, I strode to the table. I brushed Tank’s shoulder on my way past. He’d figure out what to do. Or he’d be screwed.

Blondie tensed when I slipped against his side. He could read my mind, but I couldn’t read his.

Time to be unpredictable.

Chapter Five

I tossed my martini into the hazy, force field-esque patch and the minds that it was hiding. As the vodka sailed, I lit it with a spark of my fire power.

The olives were toast.

Flames silhouetted two figures, and the barrier slipped for a fraction of a second. A confused-looking office worker type guy stood in the shadow of a tall, green-eyed man who would’ve been a ten if not for his frosted tips. That had to be Drake. The source of the barrier.

The defense slammed back, and the flames guttered. Blondie reached for his pocket, but I kicked back his chair before he could pull a weapon. I dove, pinning his arms to the floor as I stole my kiss.

Deena made a grab for me, but Tank was quicker. He blurred with speed, wrenching her arms behind her.

Blondie’s powers surged, shooting me into a giddy high. We were handling this. Between the two of us, we could take four.

I left Blondie unconscious. As I lunged for the cloaked guys, one of my heels snapped and I crashed into the neighboring poker table, clocking myself in the chin.

Tank shifted both of Deena’s hands into one of his and moved to help me up, but a light bulb fell from the ceiling. It shattered on the top of his head, and Deena broke away in the confusion.

She darted for the blurred space. I rubbed my jaw and climbed to my feet as Deena disappeared into the void. The patch of haze blurred out of the room and onto the gaming floor.

“They’re three!” I called to Tank as I moved to follow. “Hold Mr. Han.” Whatever they could do, Tank wasn’t up for it. Plus, we’d need some information from him. Not that I planned on letting the others get away.

I started to throw up a barrier when a massive sneeze gripped my chest. The force of it shattered my concentration.

What the hell was this?

As I stumbled through a wave of sneezes, my second heel snapped.

There was chance and then there was….

Chance? That’s what Blondie called the second guy. Three guesses what his power was.

Slanted odds or not, I was getting pissed. These assholes owed me a new pair of Jimmy Choos. No more playing around.

I kicked off the heels and sprinted for it. Invisible or not, my targets were easy to follow. Every slot they passed spun to a jackpot, and shrieking crowds thronged into my path. Throwing on my own invisibility, I leapt into the air and flew over the chaos.

As I neared a Porsche on a podium, an old lady yanked a lever. Her dials spun to three pictures of the car, triggering a massive blast of confetti and balloons.

I tried to dodge, but it was like navigating a ticker-tape parade. Balloon strings tangled my arms and legs, and the old lady screamed and pointed. Others turned to gape and worse. They reached for cell phones. So much for invisibility.

But I’d be damned if I was starring on Youtube.

I let loose a superhuman scream, hitting octaves that would make Mariah Carey weep. I wanted to cry from the pain in my eardrums, but I was already screwed with the audience, and the baddies about to escape. I was going to have to dig deep into the bag of tricks I’d regret.

As the balloons exploded from the noise, I flashed invisible again. A force field would’ve been perfect, but as soon as I thought it, I sneezed so hard I dropped and skimmed the top of an ornamental palm. The blur sped across the lobby toward the exit.

Time for the big tricks. But which ones? I could summon a 9.0 on the Richter scale, but that wouldn’t bode well for the casino, or for the rest of Vegas. Any serious fireworks could hurt the crowds.

A floor display for an upcoming event at Madame Tussauds stood near the exit. Jackpot for me.

Focusing my will, I sent my commands to the wax figures. Oprah Winfrey, Robert Pattinson and a pissed-looking Benjamin Franklin leapt to block the doors. The crowds freaked and followed the same logic they would’ve used in front of a tornado. Half shrieked and ran while the rest felt the call of the storm-chaser. Dozens of cells lifted to film. Not that there was much to see yet.

One of Oprah’s arms wrenched off her shoulder, while Ben shadowboxed and R-Pattz got dragged along the floor, his hands clenched around an invisible ankle.

I landed in the center of the lobby and let shards of ice spread from my feet. That backed the onlookers to the sidelines. Ice slithered across the tiles until the lobby looked like a skating rink, and not even the wax statues could keep their feet. Ben Franklin body-slammed one of the guys on his way down, and the barrier snapped.