Betting on Bear (Charmed in Vegas Book 6) Page 2

  All except for two vials sitting on the edge of the untouched cream-colored sink. Naya picked them up. One vial was empty, a lime green stain on the inside. The other held a deep purple liquid that sparkled when she held it up to the light.

  What the hell? Naya didn’t bother much with magic. The simple stuff didn’t work on her, since she was magical herself. And the strong magic—well, it was better for everyone to steer clear of the stuff. So why in Gaia’s name would she have two vials of what looked like potions sitting in her bathroom?

  That was strike three against Vegas. They allowed the sale of questionable magic that was outlawed elsewhere. Just one more reason she hated the place.Someone pounded on the door and she nearly dropped the vials. She shoved the stopper into the empty one—just in case anything noxious lingered inside—and stuck them both in her pocket. As she turned toward the door, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and stopped.

  When had she gone swimming?

  Her white button-down shirt and blue jeans—from yesterday—were wrinkled and had clearly been doused. Her hair also looked like she’d had a swim and hadn’t bothered to so much as run a brush through it afterward. Her dark brown tresses were snarled, the hair on one side of her head flattened where she must have slept on it.

  “Krena!” Hardiman’s voice came through the door along with more pounding. “Open up.”

  She couldn’t let Hardiman see her like this. He might detest her, but she couldn’t stand the thought of him seeing her looking like such a mess. And even if she could handle that, she couldn’t give him Sneezy. Her career was dead. Dead.

  She stuck her head out the bathroom door and shouted, “I’m in the shower. Come back later.” He’d hate that, but she didn’t care. A shower was a good idea. Maybe she’d get lucky and he’d leave by the time she got out. She stripped off her clothes and dropped them to the floor.

  The door knob rattled. “Open the door.” His voice had turned guttural. He must really be angry for his bear to come out like that. All the more reason to avoid him for a while.

  When Krena closed the bathroom door, she locked it for good measure. Not that Hardiman could get through the outside door. Unless he broke it down. But he wouldn’t break it down…right?

  The sound of the water hitting the bathtub brought instant relaxation. She couldn’t wait to get in the shower. The blissful feel of water touching her skin never got old. It felt like home, no matter how far from home she might be.

  Even better, she could barely hear Hardiman yelling over the sound.

  A few minutes later, as she prepared to shampoo her hair, Hardiman’s growl got a lot louder. “Come out of the bathroom or I’m coming in.”

  That sounded like he was right outside the door…the bathroom door. How had he gotten into her room? Naya shut off the shower, instantly mourning the water that swished down the drain.

  “Krena?” The bathroom door rocked back and forth as Hardiman pulled on the knob.

  “I’m in the shower. Have some decency!” She pulled a towel around her. Other than being wet from head to toe, she hadn’t had a chance to wash a thing.

  Hardiman roared. The door came off its hinges and a moment later he stood in front of her, all six-foot-something of big bear muscle, eyes blazing yellow. His short brown hair stuck straight up as though he’d been pulling at it. “Where is he?”

  Shit.

  She’d known Hardiman would throw the book at her, but she hadn’t thought he’d throw the door at her too. She pushed past him, through the doorway and into the room, holding her tiny towel tight against her body.

  “Krena!” The word sounded garbled. She heard the shower door sliding along its railing before Hardiman appeared in the doorway. He breathed deliberately, each breath a little slower than the last as the bear bled out of his brown eyes and his teeth lost their sharp edge. Even his muscles became a little more human-sized. “He’s not in there.”

  “Of course he’s not. What do you take me for?” Did he seriously think she’d shower with a prisoner?

  “Then where is he?” The growl in his voice was unmistakable. Apparently his bear hadn’t gone far below the surface.

  She looked frantically around the room for another excuse, another delay, but saw nothing that would help her. There was only one thing left to do—tell him the truth.

  She was so dead.

  ***

  Hardiman struggled to get control of himself. When he’d broken into the room, he’d just been worried. But when he’d seen the room was empty and realized the only place Krena and the prisoner could be was in the bathroom together, he’d seen red.

  Naya Krena was his.

  Even if he’d never have the guts to tell her.

  As the silence stretched out and she didn’t answer, he asked again. “Where is he?” As usual, the words came out too rough. He’d never been good with women, but with Krena he was a downright idiot. That’s why he had never attempted to woo her. He’d undoubtedly do it wrong.

  Krena fingered the edge of the tiny white towel that covered far too little of her body. “He’s not here.”

  “I can see that.” Knowing she hadn’t been fucking the prisoner in the shower had helped him regain a lot of his control. But Krena always pushed his buttons and if she didn’t answer soon, he’d lose it again.

  He wished she’d trust him. That was what got him going. He wanted her to rely on him, but when she didn’t, he went and said something stupid and surly and made her mad.

  She finally met his eyes. “Could you leave for a few minutes? I’d like to get dressed before you nail me to the fountain.”

  He let the fountain comment slip by as his gaze slid over her curvy legs. She was always saying things like that, things to do with water and fountains, and making obscure references to Greek myths. He’d started reading Bulfinch’s just so he’d understand her.

  Once he’d gotten his fill of her legs, he took a look at her bare arms, seeing a light green and brown tattoo he’d never seen before—leaves and vines twining around her upper arm. It looked like the greenery reached onto her back, and he wanted to see where it led. What would he see against her smooth skin? What would it feel like if he touched it?

  When Naya cleared her throat, he realized he’d taken two steps in her direction.

  He mentally shook himself. Right. She wanted to change. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll be in the hall.” He backed up, passed the wrecked bathroom door then lifted the hall door in order to open it wide enough to leave. Pulling it closed was just as difficult; it hung on its hinges, a little bit cockeyed. That was what happened to things that came between a bear and his mate.

  He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the real problem. Where was Sneezy McGee? Krena should have had him packed up and ready to hand over, but the prisoner was nowhere in sight. So what had she done with him?

  His mind conjured up one outlandish idea after another, everything from Sneezy locked on her tiny balcony all night to Sneezy captured by goons in a casino and forced to spend the night in the hands of the mafia. Or maybe Krena had sacrificed him to whatever crazy gods she worshipped.

  As he pictured Krena dancing naked around a fire with only Sneezy’s blood painted on her skin, he realized she was taking too long. He knocked on the door. “You done yet?”

  A muffled reply came from inside the room. At least she hadn’t jumped out the window to escape him. He was about to knock again when she said, “You can come in now.” Dressed once more in clothes that covered her beautiful curves, Krena moved across the room and sat down in one of the two chairs on either side of a tiny round table.

  Brick sat down in the other chair. “So?”

  “I don’t know.” Before he could say anything, she put up her hand. “I mean that literally. I woke up this morning and I don’t remember last night.” She picked up a couple of ampules he hadn’t noticed on the table. “These were in the bathroom when I got up. They’re not mine.” She turned them around in her
hands. “Or maybe they are mine. I’m not sure. I don’t know what’s in them.”

  He pulled the vials from her hands, his skin just brushing hers and sending tiny shockwaves down his arm. He ignored the sensation and gave the vials a good going over, although what he thought he’d find, he didn’t know. Shifters weren’t usually magic users. He sniffed them for good measure, but could only detect a slight floral scent and the effervescent sensation he always associated with physical magic, things like potions. His nose twitched and he fought back a sneeze. “And McGee?”

  She slumped back into her chair. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I know you’re going to throw the book at me. Just—maybe—be gentle?”

  Throw the book at her? What was she talking about? “Tell me everything. What’s the last thing you do remember?”

  Her chin jerked up. “Aren’t you going to call your boss and turn me in?”

  Was she nuts? He wasn’t going to turn her in. He was going to fix it. “Of course not. Your career would be over. What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Chapter 3

  She slowly closed her mouth, then swallowed. “Well...” Was he really not going to turn her in? Had she somehow slipped into an alternate universe?

  When he glowered at her, she quickly gathered her thoughts. “I remember taking Sneezy to a local diner. The only places that would deliver to this hotel were off the charts expensive, and I didn’t want to blow my per diem.”

  “What time?”

  “Dinnertime.” When he frowned, she added, “I think it was around six or six thirty. I remember the place was pretty empty, and when the food arrived, we found out why. We ate as much as we could force down and then— That’s it. I don’t remember another thing until waking up this morning.” She motioned toward her bed and its rumpled sheets.

  Hardiman glanced at the bed. When he turned back around, the look on his face was intense, his eyes hooded. If she didn’t know better, she’d say he was thinking about sex. But Hardiman, think about sex? They’d sooner see Artemis get married.

  He was kind of cute though, in a big, bear-like, behemoth of a man kind of way.

  And now she was the one who needed her head checked. Hardiman was the man out to get her. Not cute.

  He turned the vials over in his hands. “Did you find anything else that didn’t belong, or just these?”

  “Just those. But I didn’t really look.”

  He stood. “Let’s look.”

  And wouldn’t you know, he headed straight for her suitcase. She might not remember her evening, but she remembered the flimsy lingerie she favored, and that she’d thrown her dirty underthings into the suitcase when she got dressed that morning. “Stop!”

  He flung the suitcase top open and looked back at her. “What?”

  Naya raced to his side. “What are you doing?”

  “Searching. This is the most likely—” His gaze fell onto the lacy panties lying on top. He took a deep breath. Red flashed up his neck and engulfed his ears.

  A breath—the dirty shifter was smelling her underwear. She shoved him out of the way and slammed the suitcase shut. “You go search someplace else.”

  He chuckled, his ears still pink. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She waited until he’d crossed to the bureau and started opening drawers, and then she opened the suitcase and pawed through it. At first, nothing jumped out at her, but then she came across the waterlogged pants she’d worn the night before. She checked the pockets, and in the left one, she found a piece of paper.

  No, not a piece of paper—a receipt. When she smoothed it out, she saw the name of a store she didn’t recognize and two items listed for purchase— “ML3” and “RM2.”

  Hardiman came up behind her. Standing with his chest almost touching her back, he reached around her and took hold of the edge of the receipt. The warmth from his body bled into her quickly, leaving a warm ache.

  “A receipt?” he said.

  There was no way to get away from him without pushing him out of the way, so she ignored the achy feeling and said, “Yeah, and I don’t recognize the store.”

  “Look at the time stamp. This morning at two forty. You don’t remember that?”

  “Not at all.”

  He let go of the receipt. “There’s an address. We should go there and see if they remember you. Maybe they can tell us what was in the vials.”

  It was a good idea. She just hated that he’d been the one to think of it. Still, she wasn’t going to shoot herself in the foot just to thwart him. “Let’s go.”

  Hardiman had his car, thank Gaia. It wasn’t too far to the shop, but the sun was already beating down. Naya felt like every drop of water in her body had dried up.

  The shop was a little hole in the wall on a side street parallel to the Strip but a few blocks away from the glitz. On the corner opposite, a little white and red Shop of Horrors—aka quickie wedding chapel—gleamed, its red neon light flashing. Naya and Hardiman parked in front of the address on the receipt, got out and headed for the door.

  Which was locked. A dingy sign hanging cockeyed told them the store was closed.

  Hardiman pointed to the times painted in white on the window. “Looks like we need to wait a while.” It didn’t open until one in the afternoon.

  From behind them, someone yelled “Hey! Congratulations!” A woman leaned across the front seat of a late model Chevy, waving at them out of the window. “Where’s your husband?”

  Naya and Hardiman approached the car. “Excuse me?” Naya said.

  The woman looked straight at her and said, “Your husband. I’ve never seen such a happy man in my life.”

  The words weren’t penetrating Naya’s brain. She didn’t have a husband. Did she?

  Hardiman whipped out his badge and showed it to the woman. “Can you explain what you mean?”

  The woman’s smile fell. “I helped out at her wedding last night.”

  Hardiman stiffened. “Where?”

  The woman waved toward the flashy chapel of love. “Over there. I know it was her. I never forget a face.”

  He was already focused on the building across the street. “I’m sure you don’t. Thank you for your help, ma’am.”

  Why couldn’t he ever be polite like that to her?

  As the car pulled away, Hardiman grabbed Naya’s elbow and steered her toward the corner.

  “I can walk, you know.”

  “You got married?” His voice sounded rumbly. “What the hell have you done, Krena?” His hand squeezed.

  She jerked away from him. “You’re hurting me. Besides, I’m as confused as you. I’m not even dating anyone. And I hate the idea of a quickie marriage officiated by an Elvis impersonator. I can’t think of anything more sacrilegious. This has got to be some kind of mistake.”

  He continued across the street, not looking to see if she followed. “Sacrilegious? What do you know about sacrilege?”

  “It’s not only for Christians, that’s what I know. I’m a naiad, Hardiman. We follow a different religion but that doesn’t mean it’s any less valid than yours.” They reached the sidewalk in front of the chapel. Naya was pleased to see that the chapel was open. She didn’t want to have to wait to find out what kind of nonsense this was.

  The lobby seemed dark after the bright sunlight outside. A cheery female voice called out to them before Naya’s eyes could adjust.

  “Hello! How can I help you?” The voice drew closer. “Oh, it’s you! It’s so good to see you again.”

  Naya blinked to see a small, round woman wearing a flattering pink dress. “Do you know me?”

  The woman paused. “Well, of course, dear. You only left a few hours ago.” Her gaze strayed to Hardiman. “What happened to your husband?”

  Naya’s heart clenched. It wasn’t possible that she had gone and gotten married and then blanked out about the whole thing, was it?

  The woman crossed the room to a long table and fished out a photo a
lbum from a stack. “Look here. I just added your pictures to the book.”

  As Naya and Hardiman crowded round the woman to look over her shoulder, their arms brushed. Naya felt that ache again, just like she had in the bedroom. She gritted her teeth. She had more important things to deal with right now than some random attraction to a man who hated her.

  The woman flipped pages until she found what she was looking for—four glitzy photos of Naya dressed in a filmy red dress, marrying, kissing and being dipped by some man she’d never seen before.

  Married. Married?

  ***

  Hardiman’s heart rate went through the roof and sweat broke out on his forehead. What kind of fool had he been? Why hadn’t he just told her how he felt? Now she was married to someone else and out of his reach forever. He’d been a stupid, stupid fool.

  Krena touched one of the pictures, studying it. “I don’t remember this at all.”

  The other woman frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Instead of answering, Krena leaned toward Hardiman. “He doesn’t look familiar. Why on earth would I marry a total stranger?”

  Now his heart beat faster for another reason. Krena didn’t know her husband. Maybe she’d be willing to get an annulment—and then Hardiman could make her his. “It’s Vegas. Who knows. But if you want to get this taken care of, we should get an address.”

  She stared at the picture for another minute. “Yeah.”

  “This is most irregular,” the woman behind the desk said. “Even if you married a stranger, why don’t you remember him?”

  “I don’t know,” Krena mumbled.

  It was the first time Hardiman had ever seen his mate less than confident and he hated it. They might butt heads constantly, but he loved that she had the guts to stand up to him and not cower every time he walked by. Too many women were afraid of big shifter males, but Krena met him barb for barb. He couldn’t let this continue.

  Hardiman whipped out his badge and showed it to the woman, waiting while she inspected it. “Vegas PD. I’m going to need the name and address of this man.” He stabbed at the photo, hitting Krena’s husband right in the face.