Now, if only my other contact would be as helpful.

As if on cue, my phone finally buzzed. I yanked it out and stared at the message on-screen, short and to the point. I smiled grimly. Time to get to the bottom of things, or at least have some questions answered. Making sure I had my wallet and fake ID, I left the room and stepped into the green-and-gold corridor.

I met Wes in the hallway, bottle of Mountain Dew in hand as he headed back to his room. “Griffin finally get back to you?” he asked, lowering his voice as he paused beside me. I nodded.

“Heading down to meet him now. Where are the others?”

“In their rooms, last I saw them.” Wes pointed the green bottle down the corridor. “One sulking, the other doing bugger all. Hope the blasted hatchling doesn’t wander off. She looked quite put out when you told her not to leave the floor.”

I groaned inwardly. Boredom and following orders were two things that Ember did not excel at. And below us was an entire casino full of flashing lights, games, shiny objects and other things that could tempt a curious dragon.

“Keep an eye on them,” I said. “Make sure Ember stays put, but watch the soldier, too. He might’ve broken from the Order, but he’s still St. George, and that will never change. If he moves or leaves the room, I want to know about it.”

Wes smiled grimly. “Want me to stick a bug in his lamp when he’s asleep?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I doubt he’s in contact with the Order. They’re hunting him now, same as us. But if he goes off alone, or gets within twenty feet of Ember, let me know. If everything is too quiet, let me know. Hell, if the St. George bastard sneezes or takes a piss, let me know. I have no idea why he’s still hanging around, but if he stays with us much longer, I want to know what I’m dealing with, and why.”

“Fabulous,” Wes muttered. “Thirteen years of being the best hacker in this circus, and now I’m a bloody babysitter.” He sniffed and took a quick swig from his bottle before ducking his head and lowering his voice even further. “Where are the guns, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“In my room, of course. You think I’m going to let St. George anywhere near them?” The black duffel was sitting inconspicuously beside my bed, two 9 mms and a Glock wrapped neatly in my clothes. The do-not-disturb sign already hung from my doorknob, and I intended to keep it there. The last thing I needed was a curious maid tripping over a bag full of guns, but it would be worse if I was caught wandering the casino floor with an unlicensed firearm. Even in a place like this, security was trained to look for and spot anyone concealing a deadly weapon, not to mention the thousands of cameras watching your every move from the ceiling. Which meant I wasn’t going to be armed while I was here. But at least the soldier wouldn’t be carrying, either.

“I’m off,” I said, stepping away from Wes. “Call me if the room explodes.”

“You know, that’d be funny if I wasn’t terrified it could actually happen.”

Smirking, I entered the elevator and descended into the madness.

As usual, the casino floor was a chaotic sea of milling people, garish lights and clanging bells. Slot machines stood in endless rows throughout the room, blue-haired old ladies and men in suits alike feeding coins or cards into the machines with glassy-eyed determination. Crowds of men and women clustered around roulette tables, cheering wildly or groaning in turns. Dealers flipped cards at blackjack tables, smoothly picking away at players’ stacks of chips until there was nothing left. Humans and their wealth, I thought with equal amounts of pity and disdain as I maneuvered through the crowds. You fight and kill and work so hard to get it, only to throw it away like it’s nothing. I’ll never understand.

I finally spotted the person I was looking for at a blackjack table in the corner, sitting calmly with his hands resting against the lip. A dark-skinned human in a bright red suit, matching hat perched atop his head. His gaze was riveted to the pair of cards in front of him: three of spades and nine of clubs. Crossing my arms, I leaned against a nearby column to watch. The human in the red suit tapped the table edge. The dealer flipped a card, a five of clubs, bringing the total to seventeen. The human paused, then very deliberately tapped the table again. The dealer flipped one more, turning up a five of hearts. Twenty-two and bust.

The man in the suit sniffed, rose from the chair and turned to face me.

“You threw that hand,” I said. “You knew perfectly well it was going to go over.”

He gave me a brilliant smile. “Oh, sure, please announce it to the whole casino,” he said in a low voice, holding my gaze and grinning the entire time. His gold tooth glimmered in the artificial lights. “Blackjack isn’t really my thing, but since I was meeting you tonight, I figured I didn’t have time for an honest game of Texas Hold’em. Funny thing about blackjack, though. Win too often, and they start watching you. Keep winning, and they’ll accuse you of card counting, which is perfectly legal in the grand state of Nevada and will get you banned from every casino on and off the Strip for life. That’s the number-one rule in this town. The House always wins. Always.” He continued to smile, but it had an edge now, and the eyes above the teeth were hard. “So I’d be ever so grateful if some cocky lizard didn’t blow my cover and force me to change identities again. Now, laugh, you son of a bitch, like I said something hilarious.”

He threw back his head and bellowed with laughter. I managed a chuckle, shaking my head. “Haven’t changed at all, have you, Griffin?”

“Only my name,” he responded with another grin, this one genuine. “And my face. And my personality. Helping you, if I remember. And I’m about to do it again, aren’t I?”

“Who’s the guy who got you out in the first place?”

“Touché.” He gave me a rueful look. “What do you need, Riley?”

I shot a brief, wary glance at the numerous black globes on the ceiling, the cameras watching our every move. “Is this a safe place to talk?”

“Not in the slightest,” he replied cheerfully. “Do you need a drink? I feel like I need a drink. Come on.”

And he started across the casino floor, weaving through the crowds like he’d done it all his life. I followed him, keeping a wary eye out for anyone who might be watching. No one seemed to pay us any attention, except casino security, who eyed my dusty boots and black leather jacket with the same bored suspicion as they did everyone else. Clearly, they’d seen far stranger. Or thought they had, anyway.