Raquel follows the direction of my gaze, then wrinkles her nose. “We’re going to have to get some of that blood off him. His fur isn’t dark enough to hide it.” She walks over to Taser Guy’s body and rips off part of his shirt, holding the makeshift rag out to me. “It’s better than nothing.”
I sigh and take the piece of fabric, then rub at the worst of the blood on Wolfie’s coat. There’s no way I can get him completely clean, but this should make the blood a little less conspicuous. When I’ve done the best I can, I drop the rag and run my hand over Wolfie’s head. He leans into my touch, his earlier aggression completely gone as he stares up at me with some very definite puppy dog eyes, tongue lolling from his mouth.
My lips curl into a small smile. From almost the moment I walked into the casino tonight, things have gone spectacularly bad, but I can’t find it in myself to entirely regret the circumstances that led me here. Nothing is solved and things are more likely to get worse before they get better, but we’re that much closer to a future I never dared to consider possible.
“Come on, Wolfie. Let’s get out of here,” I say, dropping my hand and tilting my head toward the elevator doors at the end of the hall.
He nuzzles my thigh with his nose, then silently pads across the floor, following me all the way into the elevator and positioning himself at my side with his body pressed against my leg. I hand Raquel the stolen access card since she’s closer to the elevator buttons.
She scans the options and glances back at me. “Gfor Ground Floor? OrPfor Parking?”
My first instinct is to say we should go to the parking level, but getting above ground sounds much more desirable, even if it means having to go through a crowd of casino patrons to get outside. “Ground Floor.”
Raquel nods and presses the button. The elevator jolts into motion, Wolfie stumbling a bit before regaining his balance, and less than a minute later, the doors slide open to reveal a deserted hallway. The lights and sounds of the casino floor aren’t far, but at least we haven’t arrived right in the middle of things. Now, all we need to do is make it to the nearest exit.
I take a deep breath.Here goes nothing.
There’s no use trying to be discreet. Fake it till you make it, right? Lifting my chin, I straighten my shoulders and link my arm through Raquel’s, then step off the elevator, Wolfie at my side as we stride toward the hustle and bustle of the casino floor.
Eleven
Neil
Surprisinglyenough,wemanageto make our way around the edge of the casino floor and out one of the side entrances without too many furrowed brows or double takes. Whether that’s because it’s late enough that only the serious gamblers are still tossing their chips around and they don’t give a crap about anything else or because we move quickly enough that people don’t have time to register our odd group, I’m not sure.
Maybe it’s a combination of the two.
Either way, once we’re on the sidewalk outside the casino most of my tension drains away, even if there’s still a heavy sense of apprehension in my stomach. We made it past the first major obstaclewithout any issue, so things seem to be looking up just a little. Maybe.
The ease of our escape is a bit unnerving, but I’m not going to worry about that right now. What would be the point, anyway? I’m not exactly going to march back in to the casino and demand to know why getting out wasn’t more difficult. I’m just going to chalk it up to good luck. After everything else this evening, I think I deserve some.
Despite the fact that the sun has gone down since Raquel and I entered the casino, the temperature out here is like walking into a wall of heat. Even at night, the average lows in Las Vegas in July are still over eighty. At least it’s a “dry heat” though, right? That’s what pretty much everyone says to justify living in a place that sometimes feels like the center of the sun. I’ve never seen the distinction, but I’ve never lived anywhere else either.
Maybe a “wet heat” is worse. Or maybe people are just full of it.
I bury my fingers in Wolfie’s fur to keep him close and start walking. This time of night, the sidewalk isn’t overflowing with tourists, but there are still enough people around for me to not be entirely comfortable with how visible we are. Vegas might not be considered the city that never sleeps, but the downtimes are still busy enough that they could be considered cat naps at best.
We have to trek almost five blocks off the Strip before we reach the cheap gravel parking lot where we left Raquel’s ancient two-door hatchback. The car has definitely seen better days, but it runs, and the AC is cold at least seventy-five percent of the time, so I’m not complaining.
Beggars can’t be choosers, and it’s not like I have a car. Flipping burgers at a diner doesn’t pay very well, so I mostly depend on the somewhat decent public transportation system around here. I couldn’t roll up to the casino from the bus stop, though. That would have been enough to break the illusion of wealth, and my carefully created persona would have been useless.
Raquel opens the driver’s side door, then rests one hand on the side of the car, carefully avoiding the rust spots. She reaches down to take her heels off and tosses them in the backseat before sliding into the driver’s seat with a relieved sigh. The passenger door creaks loudly when I open it and the seat fights me as I tug on the lever to move it forward. Once I’ve finally got the stupid seat to move out of the way, I gesture Wolfie toward the backseat.
The wolf gives me what I can only call a skeptical look, then huffs and awkwardly climbs into the car. He squeezes in the back and lies down, his shaggy shoulders hunched up near his ears due to the narrow space. With Wolfie settled as comfortably as he’s likely toget, I slide into the passenger seat and let my head fall back against the headrest, the exhaustion weighing down my shoulders.
Tonight has been an absolute disaster on multiple levels, and I have no idea what my next steps are. Well, not beyond getting rid of that collar, which is a puzzle all its own.
There’s no way it’s just a normal hunk of metal, and the people most likely to know what it is and how to get it off are Doyle and his direct employees. In other words, nobody I can talk to if I don’t want to end up right back in that ring. Or simply dead.
Talking to other shifter could be helpful, but even though I’m not up-to-date on the local shifter politics, I’m fairly certain any shifter in Vegas is more likely to report inquiries about something like this to Doyle than they are to help. My mom had an old friend, an independent alpha not associated with the Vegas pack, but I haven’t been in contact with him for years, so I have no idea whether or not he can be trusted.
Still, if I can’t come up with anything else, I might have to take that risk.
“I assume I’m taking us back to my place?” asks Raquel, darting a glance at Wolfie in the rearview mirror.
“If that’s okay?”
“Yeah,” she replies. “Of course.” She pauses, staring down at her hands on the steering wheel. “We should have the place toourselves. Danny was going out with some friends after work, so I don’t expect him back tonight.”
