Chapter 11
Eleven
Neil
Surprisingly enough, we manage to 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 obstacle without 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 to get, 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 to ourselves. Danny was going out with some friends after work, so I don’t expect him back tonight.”
I bite back what I really want to say in response—that Danny’s a cheating asshole and Raquel deserves so much better—and nod. I’m too tired to have this argument again. “Sounds like a plan then.”
She offers me a weak smile, a silent thank you for keeping my mouth shut about my opinions on her boyfriend.
I have no doubt my friend knows exactly what Danny is, but the older man roped her in when she was barely twenty.
She doesn’t know anything else, and now that she has a baby on the way, escaping him will be that much more difficult.
Raquel digs the key out from under the floor mat and sticks it into the ignition, the engine rumbling to life after a few seconds of clicking and sputtering.
The smell of exhaust quickly permeates the passenger area, and I roll down the window, my sensitive nose already overwhelmed.
Even with the window down, the smell is still enough to make me cough, but if we were followed from the casino, the car’s pungent emissions might throw off anyone trying to track us.
Well, anyone trying to track us with their noses, anyway. I’m sure Doyle has people who can track us down in other ways—that file folder filled with my past is proof of that—but we probably have a little time until that happens. Time enough to get the hell out of Vegas. Hopefully.
Raquel pulls out of the parking lot and onto the street, hands tight on the steering wheel as she maneuvers the car through the light traffic.
We travel in silence, my friend’s attention focused on the road or maybe just focusing on ignoring the words I’ve left unspoken.
The radio is on the fritz, so the only sounds are the whoosh of the struggling AC and Wolfie panting in the backseat.
Eventually we reach the outskirts of the city, nothing but desert stretching out into the darkness a few blocks ahead of us where the signs of civilization end. Vegas doesn’t have suburbs in the way most major cities do, so there isn’t much beside sand and cacti past the city limits.
Raquel makes a right turn near a faded sign that marks the entrance of the trailer park where she lives with Danny.
This place isn’t one of the luxury mobile home parks that have popped up in the last few years with pools and fitness centers.
Desert Rose Trailer Park is little more than an irregularly shaped patch of sand and asphalt with nineteen trailers in various states of disrepair lining either side of the narrow access road.
The only so-called amenity this place boasts is a rusty swing set on a slightly overgrown patch of brown grass.
Still, this is better than the last group home Raquel and I stayed in—even taking Danny’s existence into account.
We pull to a stop next to the second to last trailer on the left, the bright yellow paint job setting it slightly apart from the dreariness of its surroundings.
The flowers in the window box by the door are drooping, and the white paint on the tiny porch is peeling, but it’s in better shape than most of its neighbors.
Thankfully, the windows are dark and there’s no sign of Danny’s truck.
At least that’s one piece of good luck.
We pile out of the car and troop inside, Wolfie glancing at our surroundings as we enter, his ears swiveling and nose twitching.
Raquel disappears back to the bedroom to change while I collapse on the couch with Wolfie curling up on the floor at my feet, the narrow piece of furniture too small for him.
He almost immediately falls asleep, the tension in his muscles finally releasing as he fully relaxes for the first time since I’ve met him.
Smiling softly, I slowly lean over and run a hand over his fur, watching his chest rise and fall for a few seconds before settling back on the couch.
Tilting my head back, I stare at the ceiling and question my life choices, or at least every choice I’ve made tonight, starting with the one where I didn’t simply tell Raquel to pick a different damn casino.
So many problems could have been avoided but…
My gaze again strays to the wolf sleeping peacefully at my feet. It was all worth it.
A few minutes later, Raquel wanders back out to the living room in a pair of yoga pants and a tank top.
She’s released her hair form its constraints of bobby pins and hairspray and pulled it into a low ponytail, her face now free of makeup making her look even younger than she is.
She bites at her lower lip then moves to sit next to me on the couch, leaning into my side as she tucks her legs up under her.
I curl my arm around her shoulder and rest my cheek against her hair, the sweet scent of her perfume lingering enough to tickle my nose.
“We never got to cash in our chips,” she says, nibbling at a nail as she stares fixedly at the floor. “Danny isn’t going to be happy about that.”
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to calm myself before speaking. “Danny can kiss my ass.”
Okay, not nearly calm enough, but I’m all out of fucks to give at the moment.
Raquel pulls away from me and settles herself against the arm of the couch, arms crossed over her chest in a defensive posture.
“Look,” I say, lowering my voice into what I hope is a soothing tone. “We barely made it out of that place alive. He’ll understand.” Not likely.
She eyes me for a moment before uncrossing her arms. “You think?”
No. Not even for a second. “Of course.” I give her my best reassuring smile. “I’m sure your boyfriend would rather have you in one piece than the money.”
Which is a big fat lie.
I’m not sure about that at all, but I don’t want to make her more upset.
If I thought for a second she’d leave him, I’d have no problem telling her the truth.
Unfortunately, at this point, that would only make her push me away, leaving her even more vulnerable and alone, the very qualities Danny preyed on in the first place.
As it is, I’m probably going to have to leave her behind for whatever comes next.
The shifter world, especially after everything that happened tonight, is too dangerous for an unprotected human—and a pregnant one at that.
Worse, “whatever comes next” isn’t likely to be going down in Vegas, and I have no idea where I might end up.
But I hate the idea of leaving her here with Danny. Maybe I can—
Wolfie jolts and scrambles into a standing position, his ears angled toward the door as a low growl rumbles in his chest. The sound of a car door closing and the crunch of feet on gravel hits my ears half a second later.
The person outside stomps up the steps to the trailer and fumbles with the knob, the sound of a key scrabbling in the lock accompanied by a familiar voice slurring out a few curses.
Oh, great.
Danny’s home.