True, lots of beautiful, talented young women came to Las Vegas, and plenty of them ended up disappearing. Some simply gave up on their dreams and left. Some were consumed by the city, finding work but not the glittering careers they had come in search of. Some changed their names when they vanished into the city’s seedy underbelly, because they didn’t want their families in Kansas or South Carolina or whatever wholesome place they came from finding out what they were really doing.
But Angie...
He could remember the “Missing” posters that had gone up all over town.
She was blonde and blue-eyed, young and innocent. She had done her shift one night, singing her little heart out—and been reported missing when she hadn’t returned to work the following day. The casino cameras had lost her once she’d mingled with the throng of humanity on the street.
“What do you have to do with Angie Sanderson?” he asked. “It’s not your job to find people. And if you really are innocent, then you need to get out of here—since it’s dead obvious one of your kind is up to something very bad.”
Candy looked at him with her golden eyes gleaming with tears.
“I don’t believe ‘my kind’ have anything to do with this. As for what I have to do with Angie...she’s my half sister. And I don’t care if you’re a cop, an Elven or an archangel come down to claim us all—I’m not leaving until I find her!”
Chapter 3
S
axon got up and moved away from Candy and that far-too-tempting bed.
He needed some distance. First the woman had been the embodiment of exotic beauty and erotic movement. Now she seemed like a little girl lost. It didn’t matter which, really. When she looked at him, he felt as if he were being drawn deep into a netherworld where he could easily become lost forever—and he didn’t dare take that chance. Especially not now, with a murderous werewolf on the loose.
“Your half sister?” he said, studying her. “Half...what?” He conjured the picture of the missing woman. Blonde, angelic.
Elven?
Candy shrugged, then sat up and ran her fingers through her hair. “Half sister. We share one parent.”
“And?”
She took a breath, then said, “I’m a bit of an unusual...being.”
“Go on,” he said firmly.
“Our mother was the sweetest, gentlest and most amazing woman you could ever meet. She met one of her own kind—an Elven—and they had Angela. Then Angie’s father died.”
Saxon felt his muscles tighten. Elven normally led very long lives. “Because your mother met your father?” he asked.
The look she gave him was so scathing that he felt as if he were melting in the pool of her contempt.
“Angie’s dad died because he had it in his head that he should serve his country,” she said quietly. “He was in the air force, and his plane went down in the water and he...died. I’m sure you understand.”
Saxon nodded. Of all the underworld beings, the Elven had been the last to come to the New World. They didn’t melt if they touched water, but they were creatures of the earth. Despite their strength and normally robust health, they couldn’t survive long in or even over water. Because of that, they hadn’t come to the New World en masse until flying became commonplace. A few adventurous and hardy souls had made it over via ocean liner, but the crossing had been difficult. Not everyone who attempted it had succeeded, and the weakened survivors had been easy prey on arrival.
“And your mother married a...werewolf?” he asked.
“You really are a condescending SOB, aren’t you?” she said sweetly.
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not a prejudiced man,” he denied quickly.
She shrugged. “You are—but perhaps it’s not entirely your fault. You’re Elven.”
She said the word as if no explanation was needed, and she was probably right, he thought.
“So, yes,” she went on, “my mother married a werewolf, and I don’t know a soul who doesn’t like my father. He was the best father in the world to my sister. He doesn’t know yet that she’s disappeared. Neither does my mother.”
“And they don’t know that you’re working here, either, do they?” Saxon demanded.
She exhaled. She was obviously trying to come up with a good explanation, but then she simply said, “No.”
He shook his head while looking at her. “So how are you going to explain to your father that you’ve been dancing in a strip club and pretending to be a prostitute?”
“That’s the point, don’t you see? My mother is an actress. Angie and I grew up in the theater. I’ve done nothing but act—act like something I’m not—since I got here.”
“You’ve acted out wild romps with men?” he said incredulously.
“If you know so much—”
“I know you’ve agreed to see only a few private clients. But you’re growing legendary—there’s talk about you around town.”
“Really? That’s wonderful. I’m getting to where I need to be,” she said, smiling.
He walked over to her and pulled her to her feet. “What’s the matter with you? You’re dealing with ruthless men—ruthless creatures who can rip you to shreds and scatter your bones across the desert. Have you actually slept with these monsters?”
“No!” she protested. “I told you—it’s all an act. I’m trying to find out who killed Angela, and I think I know.”
“What? Who?”
“I’m trying to get to know people who are close to Carl Bailey,” she said. “Everyone’s on guard, too intimidated by him, on his own turf. But people are less wary, more willing to talk, when they’re away from work. Maybe Bailey himself will even show up here one of these days. I’m certain he’s behind her death, if he didn’t kill her himself. He has his eye on this place, and I think he’d do anything to get it. If Angie heard something about what he was up to, something he didn’t want her to know, he wouldn’t have thought twice about siccing some killer werewolf on her. As for my...sexual activity, I accept very few private clients. Luckily for me, my performance has earned me the right to choose who I do and don’t see.”
“This is dangerous. You’re dangerous!”
“Good,” she told him flatly.
“And how do you get rid of those clients without...delivering?” Saxon demanded. He reminded himself that he wasn’t her father. He had no right to sound so angry. But...
She was dangerous, all right.
She shook her head and offered a dry grin. “I make them believe they were involved in an experience that was pure magic.”
“And how do you do that?”
“It’s in the eyes,” she said softly.
“You have werewolf eyes, animal eyes,” he said. His voice was harsh.
“Yes. And I could have made you leave here without suspecting a thing, thinking you’d been to heaven and back,” she told him.
“I doubt that,” he assured her. “I’m Elven, remember?”
“And I’m half Elven—and half wolf,” she reminded him sweetly. “Should we test it out? Or perhaps you should leave now. And make sure you arrange an exceptional gratuity for me, will you?”
He walked over to her, jaw locked, frustration boiling inside him. “What’s the matter with you? Your sister disappeared. Do you want to disappear, too?”
“I’m forewarned—and I do have that wolf thing going for me, after all.”
“You can stop that. Some of my best friends are werewolves,” he said.
She laughed. It was a nice sound. An honest sound. “Sorry, but that is so, so patronizing.”
He flushed, then was annoyed with his own reaction. He was a cop, for God’s sake. “It’s not patronizing. It’s just the truth,” he said. “Listen—”
“I’m not going away. I’m free and over twenty-one. And here in Vegas, my activities—or whatever activities you suspect me of—are completely legal. You can continue on your quest—just leave me alone to follow mine.”
She surprised him by smiling again. A real smile, not pretending to be a hardcore temptress or making fun of him.
“Let’s start over, shall we?” She walked over to him, offering her hand. “My name is really Calleigh. Calleigh McGowan. From San Francisco. I’m a Libra—usually very fair in all things. I love long walks in the forest, and I think there’s nothing quite so beautiful as a full moon rising on a clear night. And you’re...?”
He couldn’t help it; his lips twitched. He gave her his hand. “Saxon Kirby. Detective by trade—and inclination. I have a deep-seated need to help the underdog, and I loathe watching the powerful take advantage of the weak.” He paused, shaking his head. “What the hell am I doing standing here still talking to you?”
“Admitting that I’m not going away, that I may actually be—” she paused to laugh “—of some help. Face it, Carl Bailey is always surrounded by security, and he may have half your department in his pocket.”
“All right, back up.”
“I said may,” she stressed.
“And Carl Bailey may not even be behind these deaths. It could be any one of a whole list of suspects, including the new hotshot in town—that Canadian wolf who’s been throwing around so much money.”
She could manage a truly impressive stubborn set to her chin. “I’m telling you, it’s Carl Bailey. He runs the werewolves of Las Vegas. The Keeper here is...weak.”
Weak. That was an understatement.
“It’s not like that in San Francisco,” she said. “There are laws in San Francisco, and everyone knows you obey them or you pay the price.”
Saxon frowned. San Francisco had laws—why couldn’t the rest of the world manage it?
No time to dwell on that now.
“I should call your father,” he threatened.
She looked away nervously, and he realized he’d hit on the key to keeping her safe.
“You don’t know who he is,” she said, but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’ll find him. I know he’s in San Francisco,” Saxon told her.
She shook her head. “Don’t you dare! He doesn’t know that Angie is missing. He doesn’t know that I’m here. He and my mother—”
“Listen to what you’re saying! Do you want them to lose two daughters?”
“Care to let me finish?” she asked him coolly.
“All right.” He stood back, arms crossed over his chest.
“Not too long ago, my father got a request from a Keeper in London, via Larry Miller, our Keeper in San Francisco. They were having some trouble in Chelmsford—a banshee rampage. Anyway, they were seeking my father’s advice.” She was quiet for a minute. “My dad has a background in law enforcement and the judicial system. He’s gone to work with the English on a central plan so they won’t find themselves in this situation again, and my mother’s over there with him. It’s very secret. I don’t even have a way to reach him. He calls every few days to check on me. He thinks Angie is so busy with a show that she’s impossible to reach, so...”
“So you’ve been lying to him,” Saxon finished. “Your father is Theo McGowan, then? The former congressman?”
She didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.
He shook his head. “Great. Theo McGowan’s daughter is in Vegas pretending to be a stripper, and he has no idea.”
“You won’t find him.”
“Actually, I wasn’t thinking about that. I was thinking how great it is that the San Francisco Keepers actually cooperate with their international counterparts. But that’s not important right now. What’s important is—”
“Finding Angie and stopping this killing spree,” Calleigh said. “And that’s just what I intend to do.”
“Calleigh, listen, I’m a cop—”
“And I’m a big girl. You can’t stop me. What you can do, if you want, is help me,” she told him. “Meanwhile, your bill is getting higher and higher,” she warned him. “You need to get out of here before you go bankrupt.”
“Calleigh, I can’t let you do this.”
“It’s not your call. Right now you need to go. We can talk later,” she told him. “Trust me. If you don’t give me away, I’m safe, at least for this afternoon, even if I can manage to lure Carl Bailey here. If—”
“Carl Bailey is old, Calleigh.”
“And I’m young.”
“My point is, he knows every trick in the book, and he hasn’t got a moral fiber in his body. He’d just as soon kill you as look at you if you were in his way.”
“Then I’ll have to make sure he doesn’t realize I’m in his way. How about I meet you tonight and we can make a plan to work together?” she said. “Please. Frankly, I don’t want to be responsible for a good cop going bad to pay his bill for my services.”
He hesitated. “You’re not lying to me to get me out of here?”
“No. I swear. I’ll do anything to find Angie, so if you’re really going to search for her and not think of her as a showgirl gone bad—”
“Calleigh, Missing Persons has been on it—”
“And done nothing.”
“All right. We’ll talk tonight. But if you don’t show, I will find you here, and I will find a way to arrest you.”
“I’ll meet you.”
“Where?”
She scratched out an address he knew vaguely. It was one of the local equestrian facilities where the members of the show circuit trained their hundred-thousand-dollar mounts.
“This is where you’re living?” he asked her incredulously.
She nodded. “The house belongs to a man—a human being—named Dirk. He’s in love with Angie, and he’s going insane with her gone.”
“And he knows what you’re doing and hasn’t tried to stop you?”
“Seriously? Even if he wanted to—which he doesn’t—can you imagine any human who could stop me? I need to find my sister.”
Saxon knew that he would find Angela Sanderson, no matter what. She was Elven.
He looked at Candy—at the hope in her eyes.
He could only pray that, with everything else that had been going on, there was the ghost of a chance that he would find her alive.
Chapter 4
S
axon had several hours to kill until he was scheduled to meet up with Calleigh.
He headed back to his station house, sat down at his computer and pulled up the information on the cases that he was now convinced were linked.
Two months back: bones found in the desert. They might have been the result of an accidental death—and the surefire way the desert had of cleaning up the dead. A forensic examination of the bones had been inconclusive. There were no chips or marks on them to indicate that a bullet or a knife had been the cause of death. There were tooth marks on the bones, but while the ME considered them likely to be postmortem, Saxon had his own theories on that. The dead man had been about six feet tall, between forty and fifty years old—and somehow he had managed to die ten miles out in the sand, where vultures, coyotes, beetles and whatever else had pretty much taken care of all his soft tissue. His dental records had led nowhere. He’d been wearing a denim shirt and jeans, size-nine boots, and a buckle that advertised a Tennessee country rock band.