I scramble to recover. “Chuck Norris could solve global warming if he wanted to, but he likes to see people sweat.”

  One eyebrow raises slightly as she stares at me. “You’re trying to butter me up. What do you want?”

  I drop onto a lounger next to her. My first instinct is to sit on the edge of it facing her, but instead, I scoot to the end of the lounger and put my elbows on my knees. I’m trying to be more careful now, give her more space. I want to believe I’m doing this for her, but I’ll never forget the way her face looked when she was attacking Tarren, those glittering animal eyes.

  “Seriously, are you ill? You’ve never been this quiet this long in your life,” Maya says, thankfully rescuing me from that horrible memory.

  “Where’s the cross stitch, Grandma?” I ask instead of answering her. The water is blue and still over the pool, and I can see the stupid lion mosaic all the way on the bottom.

  “Finished it,” Maya answers. “Can’t wait to see your face light up when I give it to you for your birthday…oh, darn.” She makes an exaggerated sad face.

  “I’ll show you exactly what my face will look like.” I pretend to vomit. That performance deserves at least a chuckle, but I only get a little smile that quickly fades from her face. Damn, I’m going to have to up my game. She’s spiraling down into Robotsville fast, current population – one. Speaking of the person who would make the world’s most depressing clown…

  “Where’s Tarren-tron?” I ask.

  Another small smile. “In the lab, with Lo. They’ve been in there for about six hours. What do you want?”

  Without thinking, I lean toward her with a smile. “I bet Tarren would really appreciate it if we practiced applying disguises and infiltrating major businesses. You know, to keep up our skill set.”

  “Noooo,” Maya whines, sitting up in her chair. “The casinos?”

  I quickly put a hurt expression on my face. “I just want to keep my skills sharp, you know, for the mission. So we can save people’s lives. Children’s lives. Little girls in pink dresses with pigtails and lollipops and….”

  “I don’t know.” Maya pulls up her legs. “Gabe, it’s a lot of people. And after the…cupcake.” The word is a whisper.

  “Hey.” I almost reach out to put a hand on her knee, but I think better of it. “That was one itty bitty cupcake. You’ve been out in the sun all morning, right? And you can set up the Prism before we go. We don’t have to stay long. Three hours, max. I can build a decent pot in three hours.”

  I know I’m asking a lot, and if I’m being brutally honest with myself, after the cupcake, I’m not entirely sure this is a good idea either. The doubt hasn’t left Maya’s face. Should I tell her just how desperately we need the money? That Dr. Lee’s estate still hasn’t settled? That it’s been nearly impossible for me to keep up all my hustles, from dating websites to online poker to a little programing work on the side, when we haven’t slowed down from the mission for three soul-zapping years? No. I’m not ready for Maya to get wise to the fact that I’m failing at the one and only thing my family relies on me for.

  Which means it’s time for the nuclear option. I bust out my puppy dog eyes and purse my lips just a little. “Plllleeeeease, oh please, oh please, oh please,” I beg. “It’s practically my birthday, and this is my one true birthday wish, except to also meet Chuck Norris one day and Keira Knightley.”

  “You already used up your one true birthday wish making me push you, a grown-ass man, on the swings,” Maya points out.

  “One true birthday wishes regenerate. Everyone know that,” I say back. “They’re magical, like unicorns and Chuck Norris, and they only get stronger as the birthday comes closer.” When I see she isn’t buying it, I look down at my feet and give a big sniffle. “I just want to spend a fun evening fleecing a few civvies with my baby sis. Is that so much to…”

  “Fine,” Maya snaps, “but this is the final true birthday wish I’m granting!”

  “Whoo!” I cry, jumping up. “Go-ing to Vegas…” I swing my hips. “Go-ing to cheat the cassssinos.” I throw in my very excellent moonwalk. “Gabe and Maya, go-ing undercover. Uh, Uh!” I do a little jiggle in her direction and finally earn a laugh. Damn that was a lot of work, but totally worth it. When Maya’s teeth flash and all those worries vanish from her face, I get my sister back, at least for a moment.

  ***

  “Hmmm.” I scratch at my beard, careful not to pull too hard. “I guess, match?” I look down at my messy pile of chips and frown as I pretend to search for the right one. “Ah.” I toss in a ten, and it clinks on top of the growing pot that is so tantalizingly close to being mine. Only two others have stuck it out with me this far. I’ve got a sweet pair of jacks hanging in my hand with their triplet sitting on the table. Raquel on my left definitely has something, but I don’t think it’s much. I’ve already pegged her as a bored housewife who thinks she knows how to play poker, because she can distract a few drunk frat boys with her fine fake breasts. That just leaves the grizzled biker, Mike. His big, hair-covered paw lays on the table as he thinks.

  Without a word, he flicks in his ten dollar chip.

  Maya is quiet beside me, looking bored behind her big, goofy sunglasses. I wait to feel the tap of her foot against mine, but nothing. Good. Mike is bluffing out his ass.

  We’ve been at this table for a little over an hour now, and Maya has had time to get used to our poker buddies. She can’t read them perfectly, but she’s proven pretty damn good at figuring out if someone gets a good hand. In those cases, I’ll play in, just a little to allay suspicion and then fold like an origami crane.

  But this is my hand. Maya’s lack of contact tells me the other two have nothing. I stare at the beautiful pile of plastic in the center of the table. Two grand in there, easy. All mine. Once I take this hand, I’ll play through three more hands, toss a few hundred dollars away to satisfy the security bosses in the back room, and then I’ll cash out. That will put us about four grand ahead for the day. Not bad for a few hours of work.

  Maybe I can drag Maya to one more casino. We haven’t hit up the Bellagio in a while, and I’m starting to itch for some blackjack. On the next round, Mike finally folds with an irritated grunt. Raquel bites her lip, clearly regretting holding out for so long.

  “Call,” the dealer says.

  “Let’s see, ‘ere’s what I got.” I lay down my cards. “That’s good right, them two jacks? And then that one there?” I jab at the jack on the table. Raquel sighs, flipping over a ten of spades and the fourth jack.

  “Worth a try,” she shrugs and adjusts the strap of her sequin tank top for the hundredth time. “Looks like you can buy some front row seats to Britney now.”

  “Oh you better believe it!” I say with a big grin as I bend forward, raking in those beautiful plastic gems. Personally, I think the oversized Britney Spears tour t-shirt was an inspired purchase, especially with a faux leather fanny pack now cinched around my waist. The fake buck teeth add a nice touch and my lucky hat completes this killer ensemble.

  My innocent mountain hick routine is on fire, if I do say so myself. And I do. No one takes me seriously, and all my “accidental wins” are chalked up to beginner’s luck. I pat my chips into a neat pile while Cheryl, the dealer, a blonde in her 40s with the dull eyes of somebody who has been doing this ten years too long, shuffles the deck. I love it all, from the stale air, to the dull roar of voices climbing over the obnoxious tunes of the slot machines and the whisk of the cards merging into a single block. The vast room is alive with lights, movement, and laughter, all so different from the relentless slog of driving, prowling, and killing we’ve been doing for the past years. Seriously, spending a day in the Jeep with Maya and Tarren this last month would have made a bottle of Prozac want to throw itself into freeway traffic. Can’t pretend I didn’t consider it myself a time or two.

  The cards come flying across the table, and Raquel pulls up her tank top again before peeking at her hand. She’s worried half the lipstick off her lips, and I wonder if maybe she isn’t just playing with her allowance money. I lift up my cards, exaggerating the movement. Ace of spades and four of hearts. Ohhh, maybe I can turn that into a straight, if… Cheryl turns the flop. Nope, nothing. I’ll stay in two rounds and fold. I feel, rather than see Maya tense up next to me.

  “I’m bored.” She says. The words are casual, but I know her well enough to catch the hint of tightness in her words.

  “Really? I could be on one of ‘em…streaks,” I tell her even as I begin pulling my chips in closer. She must have seen something from the security guards. The word “bored” is our cue to head out. It’s not the highest alarm, though, so no desperate dash for the exit.

  “I wanna go back to the room,” she says, raising her voice a little.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, tossing in my cards. “Got time to at least cash in my chips first?” I’m glancing around now, trying not to be obvious about it. Are any of the goons coming our way? Damn! I’d been doing good at this table, taking it nice and slow. What could they have on us?

  “Just make it fast. My shows are startin’” Maya says, standing up from the table.

  Thank you, Jesus. I’d hate to bail on the all these chips. “Alright folks, I guess that’s it for us,” I say, clumsily scooping up my chips. Now, more than ever, I’ve got to stick to the character. “It’s been a real pleasure, a real honor to get to know ya’ll. If anyone of you’s is ever in Louisiana and wanna do some gater huntin’ you look me up!”

  Mike leans back, putting his hands on his big belly. “Maybe I will,” he says with a hoarse laugh.

  “You be careful,” Raquel says, her dark eyes concerned. “Don’t go flashing your money around the streets, okay honey? And you watch after your sister. Don’t let her go out alone at night. Some people, they drink too much and do other stuff, and they might try and take advantage of a girl out on her own.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am,” I say, while thinking sayonara to any poor bastard who tries to cop a feel with my sister. I’m not sure which of us would turn him into a eunuch first.

  “Tell Britney I said ‘hi,’” Cheryl says and gets a few chuckles. I bet this exchange will be a hit during her next smoke break.

  “I’ll do that,” I tell her and give them all a big wave as we turn. I keep the big grin on my face even as I lower my voice. “What’ve we got?”

  Maya is right next to me, practically huddling in my shadow. It feels weird and a little unnerving to have her this close.

  “Angel,” she breathes.

  And isn’t that about the last damn thing I’d thought she’d say.

  Chapter 14 – Maya

  I huddle next to Gabe, trying to hide myself within his aura. His energy dances across my skin like electricity, but I’ve got myself under tight control. I fed as much as my body could take before we came into this cesspool of noise, lights, and desperation. So why isn’t this other angel freaking the fuck out and killing every person in sight?

  Gabe hands his chips in at the cage. His aura is tightening as he switches into mission mentality.

  “No, relax,” I hiss at him. “Be emotional.”

  If the angel looks at me straight on, she’ll know that something is off about my weak aura. Gray like smoke. Muddled. That’s how an angel had once described it. Not human. Not entirely angel. My own special freak show.

  If the angel isn’t paying attention, I might be able to hide within the bright, healthy cloak of Gabe’s aura. My gaze flicks to the angel again. She has oozed up to a blackjack table, her crimson nails drumming impatiently as a young kid with a posse tries to decide if he wants another card. No colorful aura dances around her body. Definitely an angel.

  Everything about how she prowled slowly around the floor and tossed her silky blonde hair tells me she knows exactly how gorgeous she is. Her tight red dress splits up both sides, showing off long, taut legs, and she doesn’t so much have boobs as small cannonballs strapped to her chest. They seem almost alive as they bounce with her movements.

  “Where is she?” Gabe hisses.

  “Red dress,” I whisper.

  Gabe laughs and points in a random directly, giving himself a chance to scan the room. “Hubba, hubba!” he breathes under his breath as he catches sight of the woman. A ripple of lust flows through his aura. “Damn. Can I take her out to dinner before we kill her?”

  “Only if you want to be the entrée.”

  “If that’s the only way she’ll put hands on me, I might just take it,” he says.

  I try to keep my face neutral, but I don’t like this joke. Not at all. “Come on, I need to get out of here before she sees me,” I tell him.

  Keeping myself glued to Gabe’s side, we leave the casino and plant ourselves into a back corner of the hotel lobby. As I peel myself away from Gabe’s aura, memories whisper through my mind – the feel of his energy coursing through me, the power of it, the glorious silence…

  Stop!

  I blink hard, forcing those terrible, tempting thoughts away.

  “How should we play this?” Gabe says, his voice low. He leans forward in his armchair, planting his elbows on his knees. He looks like an ugly duckling that never quite figured out how to turn into a swan, with his bushy brown beard, twisted yellow teeth, and the stupid fanny pack clipped over his too-big Britney Spears’s t-shirt.

  “She might be scouting for victims in the casino,” I say.

  “Or doing what we we’re doing. Using her powers to cheat,” Gabe says. “But how come she isn’t going Godzilla and sucking everyone dry?”

  “I was wondering that too,” I say with a shrug. “Angels can train themselves, like I do, to withstand the temptation.” I remember two angels I met several years ago, Jane and Kyle, who made their living as traveling circus performers. Even with the energy of hundreds of people pulsing all around them, they managed to keep themselves in check. “With a lot of training and discipline, she could pull it off,” I say. “She’s not a newbie.”

  “You see any others with her?”

  I shake my head. “Either she’s working alone, or her partners weren’t in the room.”

  Gabe sits back in the chair thinking. All around us, people move to their own inner symphony. Some pull luggage behind them as they check in or out of the hotel. Others wander out of the elevators, ready to find their personal pleasures in a city built for that purpose. So many different voices, so many different colors flickering through auras. Hundreds of stories whisk by us, each aura touching me for an instant, giving me just a single page in the novel of their life.

  “Well, we can’t take her out here,” Gabe says, glancing up at the ubiquitous cameras.

  I’ve already got a plan forming. Basic, but safe. “We call Tarren. He can use one of Lo’s cars to get here. You go back into the casino and track her. I’ll get to the Jeep and suit up. When she leaves, we’ll follow her, see if we can pin her into an isolated place or trail her to a house we can monitor. Best we can do on the fly.”

  Gabe thinks it over and then stands up, placing his hands protectively across his fanny pack. “Earl feels like hitting the slots with his newfound fortune,” he announces.

  “Dumbest name ever,” I inform him.

  “You’re just jealous, Donna Jo,” he says as he sticks in his Bluetooth earpiece and heads back into the blinking, clanging chaos of the casino floor.

  ***

  The sun is setting, and Las Vegas is just beginning to wake up when our quarry cashes out her substantial pile of chips, tucks the wad of cash in her clutch, and hits the streets. The slappers have assumed their positions along the Strip, the steady thwack of their cards against their hands creating competing staccato beats. I carefully move through the heavy stream of people who laugh and stumble and slurp from ridiculously large containers of alcohol, some fashioned as plastic guitars hung round their necks.

  “Just passed Flamingo Road,” Gabe whispers through my earpiece. “Damn, those heels are really working for her.”

  Our angel lingered in the casino for a little over an hour, just long enough for Tarren to fight through traffic to get here and catch up to us.

  Now we stalk.

  I’ve chosen to keep on my stupid wig of black curls and the ugly beauty mark Gabe drew on my upper lip this afternoon. Cameras seem to sit on every corner. Ducking them is easy compared with the plague of cell phones snapping group selfies around us. I’ve switched out my bland jean skirt for black stretchy pants and dark tennis shoes. My floppy pink purse now includes more than just a fake ID and lipstick. My Glock 19 is loaded and ready with silencer attached.

  I keep two blocks behind Gabe, but I know I can race through these crowds and catch up to him if I need to. Even from this distance, I can easily see the swish of the angel’s round hips covered in only the thinnest layer of riotous red. Tarren is trying to keep ahead of the angel so that we can effectively box her in if she ever breaks away from these inconvenient crowds.

  “She’s turning. Yep, took Park Ave. Right. She went right,” Gabe breathes.

  “Check,” I whisper. The MGM Grand looms in front of me, lit up in a vibrant green. Huge billboards stream bright images as if trying to push back the night with a million hands. The massive, gleaming lion statue gazes forward in noble boredom.

  “I’ll cut back around the casino,” Tarren says, and I know he has his cell phone out, carefully zoomed in on a map of our location.

  “Stay back, Gabe,” I whisper to him, noticing immediately how the crowds have thinned as soon as I turn onto Park and put the Strip behind me.

  “Lady, I am a shadow in the night, the whisper of the wind, a tourist in a sea of tourists,” he responds back, his voice still a little slippery over his fake teeth.

  “You’re also not armed,” I point out as I skirt around a large group of Asian teens giggling and gawking at a man with a monkey on his shoulder.

  Our angel is probably going to get into a car soon, in which case…