And Dirk. I was going to kill him, but at the same time, could I actually date him? Of course not. That would be ridiculous. The very idea made my heart flutter as if I were going into cardiac arrest. I would forget everything the second he kissed me. Or I kissed him.
I was here to destroy him, but until I regained control over myself, I was the one who’d be destroyed. He was so irritatingly handsome with that chiseled jaw, tilted arrogantly while his eyes burned and his hands pinned me to the wall. He was very strong. He still tasted of chocolate. So, what to do?
I had an appointment for therapy at four. It hurt to admit it, but I hadn’t progressed since I’d made the call. Maybe I could get something useful out of him if he weren’t actually a therapist.
And as for Dirk, I owed him a letter.
I found a nice pad of paper and a very pretty pen on the bedside table. I stared at the paper for a long time, wrote half a sentence, scratched it out and then wrote another. After six crumpled-up sheets, I had something almost right.
I can’t kill you until after the Three-Hundred, as per Jezebel’s orders. You’re lucky that your videography skills are in such high demand. We will spar, I will take your blood, and then we will eat Chinese food and watch Scooby Doo. You will not distract me with your kisses.
~V
P.S. I could have signed off as ‘D’, but that might have confused you. You’re the real villain, though. I won’t forget that.
I nodded and folded the note, then snuggled deeper under the covers and fell asleep, absolutely not thinking about Dirk distracting me with his kisses. Fine. I relived his kisses until my toes went tingly. No, that was my bullet wound.
At four o’clock, I went directly to the front desk and slid the card in front of the dark-haired man standing behind the counter. He wasn’t nearly as good as the woman because somehow he made me feel like a high-class prostitute being called for one of the more self-important guests without saying a word.
“How may I assist you?”
I gave him a hard smile. “Could you give this to Dirk Dagger when you see him?” I asked, holding the folded paper out to him.
His expression changed at the mention of Dirk. He hurriedly got a crisp white envelope out of a drawer and held it open while I put my letter paper inside, so he didn’t actually touch the note, almost like he was paid more when his clients felt like their privacy was being respected. “Of course, madame. Anything else?” His stiff smile and ‘madame’ made me want to stab him. Could I make myself stab him? I had the beautiful knife inside my bag, but I had my doubts if I could handle actually shoving it through his flesh. Nope. My stomach rebelled at the thought. Also, my hands started shaking. I clearly needed therapy if I couldn’t even stab someone.
“Yes, see that all the clothing from my room are packed and delivered to Jezebel Whiskey’s address. Understand?”
His eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, and he nodded rapidly. “Yes, madame.”
I headed back to the elevator, scanned the black card against the bowler hat button and then gripped the railing while the elevator rose this time instead of descending.
The mirror in the elevator showed a woman with perfect posture in a discreet sheath dress in every way other than the hotpink puppy sequins across the front of it. The black clothing had elements of pink that didn’t show upon first examination. Dirk had a death wish, mocking me for my puppy slippers, but I’d have to wait until after the Three-Hundred to kill him. Maybe I’d have to wait much longer than that.
The doors opened onto a lush Berber forest, my heels sinking into the deep pile. It wasn’t practical for a hotel to have such luxurious carpet, particularly in the halls. This was a statement rug—we are too wealthy to be practical. He must host a lot of high rollers here. Did he do therapy for all of them?
I walked down the hall, ignoring the closed doors I passed, then knocked at the one at the end. When it opened without a sound, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. I wasn’t surprised to see the empty room. Having self-opening doors meant someone was always monitoring the hall. It was standard procedure for anywhere dangerous people came together to see how they could profit even though there wasn’t any trust between them.
I was surprised by the cello in the middle of the masculine room, dark wood and peacock wallpaper offset by oil paintings of beautiful women. Was that a Turner? Yes, this was definitely where Horse liked to showcase his money. I walked past the cello to the far wall with its windows and narrow balcony that overlooked a busy street. You couldn’t hear a whisper from outside, not even if you pressed your ear to the glass. You wouldn’t be able to hear anyone scream from in here either.
I shivered. I couldn’t take anyone down, even to defend myself. I was so helpless.
“Dani? Shall we begin?”
I whirled around, heart beating in my throat, and saw Horse for the first time in a suit and tie. He filled it out like a Greek sculpture, but the ice bag he held on his face diminished the aura of untouchability.
“Do you play?” I asked, nodding at the cello. I didn’t move from my position near the window, as far from him as I could get. My heart wouldn’t stop beating so fast. I couldn’t trust him, but what else was I supposed to do? I should have told Jezabel I’d be here. She could save me. I hated needing to be saved. So much.
He squinted at me. “I thought you might want to relax before I got here. Stupid of me.”
It was actually. As if I’d relax in a stranger’s place when I was trying to talk myself into talking. “What happened to your eye?” I nodded at him with my chin, staying as far away from him as possible.
He winced and touched two fingers to his eye. “Trix kicked me. I was only trying to keep her from falling off the bar. I don’t know if she even did it intentionally; she was that hammered. She doesn’t usually kick you in the face. She punches.” He smiled fondly at the memory of her punching him in the face.
What was his deal with her? Was he really her stalker? I’d take care of him. Except that I couldn’t do anything about anything. I clenched my fists and frowned at him. “Don’t tell me that you went to every place that sold tacos and margaritas until you found her.”
He didn’t answer right away, taking the ice off and frowning at it. “I’m not her stalker. I came to Vegas after she did, it’s true, but she moved into the hotel after me, like she walked into the most expensive and currently popular club in town after I was already there. Perhaps she’s stalking me. You should have gone with them. It’ll be a long time before Trix goes to town with that much enthusiasm.” He put the ice back on his eye and focused on me with the one eye- dark blue, piercing. “How’s your arm? It took a lot of effort to get the blood out of my carpet.”
I shuddered at the memory of Dirk and his friends doing surgery on me, knocking me unconscious. How dare he! But atthe same time, I wasn’t dead. I clearly needed saving, so it was idiotic to be furious about it. Didn’t change the roiling emotions though. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we? I’m here to get my body back under my control. What is going to get to the root of the problem the most quickly and efficiently?”
