I straightened quickly. “He’s gone? Where?”

“No idea. I tried asking Wes, but he just said Riley had ‘important things to do’—” she put air quotes around the phrase, rolling her eyes “—and wouldn’t tell me what. Of course, he left without telling us, or leaving any hint as to where he went or when he’ll be back. So much for trusting me, I guess.”

With a sniff, she hopped off the bed, grinning up at me. “So, come on, Garret. We’re in Vegas, the night is young and we have fake IDs. Even you must realize what we could do with those.”

“We aren’t supposed to leave the floor.”

She actually growled at me. “If you want to stay here and mope and be boring, I can’t force you to come,” she said. “But I am going downstairs. The hotel is safe enough. Riley said so himself. Talon and St. George don’t know where we are, and even if they see me, they’re not going to shoot me in the middle of a crowded casino with guards and cameras and people everywhere.” She bounced past me, heading toward the door. “I won’t be long. I just need a change of scenery before I go completely nuts. If you see Wes, tell him I’m looking for Riley.”

I grimaced. “Wait,” I said, and caught up to her in the doorway. This was not a good idea, and I knew this wasn’t a good idea, but I didn’t want Ember to be alone down there. If something went terribly wrong, at least I would be there to help.

She grinned as I exited the room, and I shook my head. “Just for the record,” I told her as the door clicked shut, “this is the exact opposite of the term ‘lying low.’” She shrugged, waving it off, and I followed her down the hall. “Doesn’t gambling cost money?” I asked as we neared the elevators. “How are you going to pay for anything?”

“I have a little cash,” Ember replied. “Enough for penny slots, anyway. It’s not like I’ll be playing roulette or poker with the professionals, not unless I score really, really well. But who knows?” Her eyes sparkled as the elevator doors opened and we stepped inside. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

Riley

I was not in the best of moods.

The taxicab reeked. Badly. Normally, I didn’t mind the smell of smoke, but the patron before me had either lit three or four cigs at the same time or had been wearing a cologne called Essence of Ashtray. It smelled, it was annoying, and I was already tense enough. Of course, the irony of a dragon nearly gagging on smoke was not lost on me, but it didn’t make me any less irritable, either. The memory of last night, when Wes had announced that yet another nest was gone, made me want to punch something. Dammit, what was happening? Who was giving us away? And could I find them before my entire underground was lost?

A guy in nothing but a Speedo, openly carrying a beer bottle, distracted me through the window and made a lewd gesture with his hips. I gritted my teeth, imagining what would happen if I set his Speedo on fire.

Clenching a fist against the door handle, I watched the lights of downtown fade in the rearview mirror and wished the cabbie would step on it. I hoped Ember was okay. I didn’t like leaving her alone, especially with St. George close by, but I had no choice. This meeting was important and, like it or not, I had to follow through. Griffin had sent me the information an hour ago, saying the contact wanted to meet face-to-face, away from prying eyes, and had refused to come to the hotel. Which meant I had to go to him, and, annoying as that was, I couldn’t say no. Nor did I want the other three trailing along while St. George was in town. Better for me to go alone; I was used to this type of thing, and if the Order jumped me, at least it was just my neck at risk. I’d told Wes to keep an eye on both the girl and the soldier; he was instructed to contact me immediately if he suspected there might be trouble.

I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

The taxi pulled up outside a skeevy-looking diner several blocks from the glittering brilliance of the Strip. The sidewalk wasn’t well lit, and a couple thuggish-looking humans argued with each other near the entrance. Keeping an eye on them, I wrenched open the glass door and stepped inside.

The interior of the diner was dim and smelled like grease, smoke and too many humans packed into a small space. A couple Hell’s Angels eyed me as I made my way across the floor, and I hoped my boots and leather jacket wouldn’t offend them enough to pick a fight. I wasn’t here to toss bikers through windows, amusing as that sounded. I needed to find that contact.

A dark figure in a corner booth caught my eye, and a thin hand twitched in a beckoning motion. Easing around a waitress, I walked over and slid into the seat across from him, trying not to curl a lip. The human was pale and unnaturally thin, with sallow cheeks and lank, greasy hair hanging to his shoulders. The huge sunken eyes, glazed over and unfocused, told me everything I needed to know.

“Griffin said you’d be able to hook me up.” The human’s voice was a raspy whisper, greedy and hopeful. He feverishly scratched at his arm, like he had spiders crawling on it. “Fifty bucks to tell you what I know, that was the deal.” He scratched his other arm, leaving thin red welts down his skin. “You got the cash?”

“If the information is good,” I replied, thinking I was going to kill Griffin when I got back. How in the hell was this a “reliable contact”? “Let’s hear what you know, and I’ll decide if it’s valid.”

“No way, man.” The human shook his head, making his hair whip back and forth. “That wasn’t the deal. Cash first, then info. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine.” I stood, dusting off my hands. “I don’t need info this badly. Enjoy your nothing. I’m gone.”

“Wait!” The human half rose from his seat, flinging out a hand. I paused, glancing back with cool disinterest. “All right, all right,” he hissed. “I’ll tell you what I know. But I’m not crazy, okay? I know what I saw.” He squirmed, casting wary looks around the diner as if someone was listening to us. No one was; the whispered rambles of a junkie in a dark corner didn’t merit a second glance here. I sat down, waiting silently, while he assured himself no one was lurking in the shadows in the next booth. Finally he hunched forward across the table, his eyes even wilder than before.

“My buddies and I, we have this squat several miles past the Strip, right? One of those big, half-finished hotels that was abandoned when the recession hit. It’s been empty for years, and we don’t bother no one, okay?” He sounded defensive, as if he thought I would care what he and his friends did on other people’s property. I didn’t say anything, and he dropped his head, his voice becoming a harsh whisper.