Authors: Tasha Black
F
inn followed Darcy
, jazzed at the chance to be alone with her. Her sequined dress sparkled like it was on fire in the muted lights of the darkened lobby.
He’d never heard anyone talk to the boss like that. She was a total bad ass. Finn wasn’t sure if he was more mesmerized by her tough attitude or her feminine form.
She had already shut down every male employee in the place who’d been brave enough to try to break through her shell. Though she worked her femininity on the customers from time to time, she was always dead professional with her colleagues. Professional to the point of being prickly in Finn’s case.
Hell, she’d just refused to engage in clear flirtation with Roman Panchenko himself.
And, as if in protest, her body was as red hot as her attitude was ice cold. Those ample curves shouted hospitality as sure as her expression said get-the-hell-out.
The combination made Finn delirious.
He was going to miss seeing her. A month was a long time.
Darcy turned on her heel as soon as they hit the center of the landing.
When he saw she was heading for the stairs he sighed inwardly, but didn’t think of going to the elevator himself. Instead, he followed her like a puppy and wondered if taking the stairs made her good in bed. It probably did.
“So you’re really taking a month off?” he asked. “Just like that?”
“Just like that,” she replied, her voice kind of sharp, like she was annoyed with him for some reason.
“No elevator?” he asked, as the doors banged behind them.
“Nope,” she said over the clatter of her high heels.
“A good stretch of the legs is always a fine way to start the day, I suppose,” he offered.
“Dude, it’s eight PM,” she said over her shoulder. He could hear the smile in her voice. Good. He was getting to her.
“So it is,” he allowed.
They didn’t say anything more down the interminable flights of stairs. Darcy seemed to be bent on a quick exit and Finn was just trying to keep up with her. At least he’d had the good fortune to decide to follow her on her trip down. He wasn’t entirely sure he could have matched her pace on the way up.
She burst through the doors and started onto the patterned carpet of the winding hall back to the poker room.
“Wait,” he said.
To his surprise and delight, she stopped and slowly turned to him, eyebrows raised.
“Let me buy you a coffee before you go on your shift,” he offered. “I owe you that much, at least.”
“At least,” she agreed. “Coffee sounds like good start.”
Finn gave her the bad boy magician smile that made the audiences weak in the knees. It didn’t have quite the intended effect.
Darcy rolled her eyes and spun on her heel, heading into the dining room. Finn was going to have to up his game.
They skirted the tables. This was the main dining room, not the VIP. There were plenty of people eating and drinking at the close set round tables. Each table sported a linen tablecloth and a flower arrangement, but paper napkins. And the food itself was an odd mix of almost fine dining and baskets of chicken fingers.
Darcy was headed toward the barista, when she tottered uncharacteristically on her heels and turned back.
A second later, one of the doors to the dining room burst open. The sound of the door hitting the wall sliced like a gunshot through the noisy dining area.
A naked child staggered through the doorway. It was a boy, maybe seven or eight years old, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.
Once he spotted them, he froze in his tracks.
T
he overwhelming scent
of fear stopped Darcy in her tracks. To her finely tuned nose, it was high-pitched and white-hot, blatant as the scream of a jet engine. In the crowded dining room it was inconceivable to her that no one else noticed.
She spun to find the source, but it found her first. A door smashed open and the scent kicked up.
A child stumbled through, terror pouring off him.
She headed for the boy, her other senses adding to the picture.
He was naked and thin - too thin, all hard angles. There were dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t been treated well.
A swell of anger, like a bad meal coming back up, brought her wolf to the surface. Darcy needed to shift. To track. To hunt. To make someone pay for hurting an innocent.
The child froze in place.
Scared, Darcy, he’s scared
, she told the wolf, trying to remain calm, remain human.
As she got closer the kid cringed, like he was about to bolt.
Darcy slowed her pace and crouched down slightly to be at his eye level.
“Hi, I’m Darcy. I’m going to help you, it’s going to be okay,” she told him softly. The words didn’t matter as much as her tone, she knew.
He blinked at her, deciding not to run.
She extended her hand to him and waited.
The boy looked into her eyes. His own eyes were dark with a flash of hazel around the irises.
After a long moment, he lowered his head into her palm.
His silky hair felt warm against her skin, Darcy’s heart stuttered in sadness.
But there was no time to feel sorry for the child, the room had gone silent. She needed something to cover him with before he took stock of the fact that he was naked in front of all these people.
“Finn,” she whispered.
But he was already moving.
She watched as he grabbed the edge of the nearest tablecloth and yanked.
Most of the place settings crashed to the floor immediately.
The vase in the center wobbled, threatening to spill its contents in their direction, but somehow it stayed upright.
“Finn,” she scolded.
“What?” he asked, draping the kid with the cloth. “The flowers are still standing.”
She looked back to the door where the kid had come from. Where did that even lead?
A mental image of the labyrinthine layout of the casino spread out in her mind: kitchen storage, loading docks, basement…too many options. Damn the intentionally confusing layout.
“Where did you come from?” she murmured softly to the child.
He lifted his small face, searing her with his dark-eyed gaze again. He opened his mouth to speak.
No words came out.
In the silence she noticed the silence of the room. A glance up told her everyone was staring. A few people had even begun recording on their phones.
“Let’s get you out of here,” she said, wrapping an arm around him and moving toward the door.
Shit. Where could she take him? She paused, trying to think of someplace safe and quiet, a place where she could calm him down, call for help…
“My dressing room,” Finn said quietly. “It’s private. We can call the police from there.”
Darcy looked up at him in gratitude.
“That won’t be necessary,” the shrill voice from behind sent fingers of ice up Darcy’s spine. “The boy belongs to me.”
Darcy turned, a low growl building in the back of her throat.
The owner of the voice was a small woman in a bright pink suit with black trim. Her perfectly coiffed hair was almost like a helmet. She wore a saccharine smile on her lips, but her eyes told a different story.
Two large men flanked her on either side. One was bald and Asian. The other was blonde with an eyepatch, like some kind of Viking.
Instinctively, Darcy pulled the boy close.
“He
belongs
to you?” she asked.
“What I mean to say is, the boy is my nephew, and I’m afraid he has some… special needs,” the pink lady told her. “I told you not to go wandering off,” she said loudly to the child, bending her small form slightly.
The boy pulled the tablecloth up over his head and shrank back in fear.
The gesture slammed Darcy’s memory back to childhood, afternoon light dappling her brothers’ bedroom as they made endless sheet and pillow forts on cold rainy weekends.
Anger surged again and her wolf scratched at her skin to be freed.
Mr. Bald moved forward with a hand out as if to grab the kid.
Darcy stepped up to plant herself firmly in front of the child.
He didn’t stop.
Darcy grabbed the index finger of his extended hand and wrenched it back neatly toward him. The sound of tendons cracking had the nearby diners gasping as he dropped to his knees.
Behind the downed man, Viking reached inside his suit.
“Unless you want to lose the other eye, that hand better come out empty,” she told him.
He froze.
“Stand down, Mr. Draven,” the woman in pink said calmly, like this was a perfectly normal turn of events.
The Viking showed her his empty hands, and Darcy eased off the bald man’s finger, just enough to relieve the pain, but not enough to let him up.
They’d reached a standoff.
“Whoa,” Finn said from behind. “This is a little too intense for me. I’ve got a show to get ready for. Good luck with your little negotiation.”
His voice faded as he backed away.
She heard the door close behind him.
Finn.
Darcy’s heart sank. She’d just been starting to think he was a stand-up guy.
“Yes sir,” a familiar voice came from one of the doorways in front of her. Mason stepped in with a finger on his earpiece. “Right away sir.”
Oh thank god, at least someone had her back.
“Uh…Darcy?” Mason’s expression was uncertain. “Mr. Panchenko says not to interfere with our guests’ business.”
Sonofabitch.
She released her hold on Baldy’s hand. He groaned in relief.
But she didn’t move from in front of the kid.
“C’mon Darcy. Don’t make this hard. Please,” Mason said.
She took a small step aside, locking eyes with Mrs. Pink.
A cruel smile tugged at one corner of Pink’s mouth as she stepped forward and grabbed the tablecloth covering the boy’s huddled form.
“I’ve had just about enough of your nonsense for one night,” she scolded, her voice like fingernails on a chalkboard.
She yanked the cloth roughly.
Darcy braced for the fear in the boy’s eyes, desperately trying to convince herself that this was none of her business. That she could walk away.
She knew better though.
A half-baked plan began to form in her mind. She would grab the kid, take out Draven the Viking, and try to lose them in the twists and turns of the casino. He might not agree with her, but would Mason buy her some time anyway?
She never got the chance to find out.
Mrs. Pink yanked back the cloth.
And they all stared at the empty chair underneath.
D
arcy lunged into the hallway
, pounding the lush carpet with her heels as she headed for Finn’s dressing room as fast as she could.
The patterns in the wallpaper blurred in front of her eyes. She only had a few minutes before the Viking and the Pink Lady managed to come to the obvious conclusion.
She’d left them arguing with Mason, demanding to talk with Panchenko. Bless his enormous heart, Mason was buying her some time after all. She doubted even he could slow them down for long.
Darcy wished she could shift, but in the crowded casino it was bad enough she was letting herself run this fast - too fast for a human woman. Besides, the child would be frightened by a wild animal.
She crashed through the metal doors that led to the performer dressing rooms. It took her a valuable minute to figure out which door was his. She didn’t visit this part of the casino often.
She knocked a quick tattoo and he opened the door partially before she had finished. He peeked out at her, hazel eyes dancing furtively.
“Where’s the kid, Finn?” she demanded, pushing on the door.
“Nice to see you too,” he answered, raising an eyebrow.
“Is he in there with you?” she asked.
But he was already looking over her shoulder.
Damn.
She heard the footsteps a second later.
Why hadn’t she heard them first? What was happening to her senses?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Finn replied blandly.
Darcy turned to see Pink and her crew, followed by an apologetic looking Mason.
“Come now, Mr. Butler, let’s not make this any more difficult than it needs to be,” Pink called out in her sugary tone.
Finn didn’t open the door another inch.
“I told you, I don’t know anything about your kid. It’s none of my business,” he insisted.
“You’re right about that,” Pink said, tapping her long pink nails on the door frame. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if we came in and looked around.”
“I don’t think you want to come in right now,” Finn replied. “I’m getting ready for my show.”
“We won’t keep you,” Pink said, all the sugar out of her voice.
She stepped back and gestured toward the door.
Mr. Bald, still favoring the hand Darcy injured, pushed it open seemingly effortlessly.
Finn stood before them, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.
Darcy caught her breath. Finn was like a Greek god, his long hair glistening in waves over wide shoulders, the smooth planes of his tanned chest going on forever over an unbelievable six pack. A trail of silken hair led down to the logo on his boxers.
When she looked back up, he raised an eyebrow at her again and she flushed instantly with embarrassment that he’d caught her checking him out.
“I told you I was getting ready,” he said playfully.
“Search the room. Make sure you’re thorough,” Pink snapped, shaking her head as if to take herself out of the trance of staring at Finn’s body. At least Darcy wasn’t the only one.
Finn sighed and stepped aside, gesturing with a ridiculous magician-like flourish at his tiny dressing room.
“I’ll bet you $500 they don’t find anything,” he murmured to Darcy, shooting her a wink.
To her surprise and horror, Darcy blushed again.
“What’s this?” Draven asked, pointing at a large wooden box. It looked really old, and genuinely pretty mysterious, making it seem out of place among the various bits of flashy magical paraphernalia scattered about.
“That’s the Aztec Tomb,” Finn offered without explanation.
“Open it,” Viking said flatly.
“No can do, I’m afraid. If I show you muggles how it works, they’ll kick me out of the Magicians’ Guild,” Finn said.
Darcy stifled a laugh.
Everyone else stared.
“I’m kidding. It’s got a false back. Here, look,” he reached over to open it up. “You should probably get back to work, I’ll catch up with you later,” he said to Darcy as he fiddled with the box.
“Yeah. I’ll do that,” she said. “Good luck.”
“Never say that. It’s ‘break a leg’,” he corrected her. “Although maybe we shouldn’t give these guys any ideas.”
He gave her a confident wink.
She rolled her eyes and turned to the door, his low chuckle ringing in her ears.
“Be careful with that,” he continued as she left the room. “When things disappear in there, I’m not really sure where they go. And I can’t always bring them back.”
Darcy walked slowly down the hall, smiling at the thought of Finn. Standing in his underwear, surrounded by people who wanted to do bad things to him, and still making jokes and flirting shamelessly.
What was his game?
The kid obviously wasn’t there, or he wouldn’t let them search.
So where was he?
There was no way for Finn to tell her with those two around.
Or was there?
He would have needed to be sure they didn’t pick up on it. Like some kind of code.
If only she could remember what he had said instead of what he’d looked like. Damned magician. What right did he have to be built like that?
She remembered her embarrassment and then his words echoed in her head.
I’ll bet you $500 they don’t find anything…
Shit. Her clutch.
She must have left it on the counter at the coffee bar when the kid showed up.
She began to run, dashing along the edge of the hallway, slowing when she saw clientele leaving the ballroom.
At last she reached the dining room. Pushing past customers in line for the sundae bar, she reached the counter where she’d dropped her clutch.
There was nothing there.
“Hey, Darcy, looking for this?” the barista reached under the counter and came back up with her clutch.
“Thanks,” Darcy replied. Most of the staff knew her name, since it was unusual for a female cooler to be in charge. She tried her best but couldn’t remember the barista’s name. “I appreciate it, babe.”
“Maggie, it’s Maggie. Pretty crazy scene, huh? What was that all about?” she asked.
Darcy smiled blandly and ignored the question, running her hand along the inside lining of the clutch.
In the side pocket, next to the $500 chip from last night, she found a set of keys.
She’d never seen them before.
She pulled the keys out to examine them. A random assortment - one that looked like it might unlock handcuffs, a larger car key that said
Jeep
, and a shamrock encased in clear plastic.
Finn’s keys.