back.”
Darcy walked slowly down the hall, smiling at the thought of Finn. Standing in his underwear, surrounded by people who wanted to do bad things to him, and still making jokes and flirting shamelessly.
What was his game?
The kid obviously wasn’t there, or he wouldn’t let them search.
So where was he?
There was no way for Finn to tell her with those two around.
Or was there?
He would have needed to be sure they didn’t pick up on it. Like some kind of code.
If only she could remember what he had said instead of what he’d looked like. Damned magician. What right did he have to be built like that?
She remembered her embarrassment and then his words echoed in her head.
I’ll bet you $500 they don’t find anything…
Shit. Her clutch.
She must have left it on the counter at the coffee bar when the kid showed up.
She began to run, dashing along the edge of the hallway, slowing when she saw clientele leaving the ballroom.
At last she reached the dining room. Pushing past customers in line for the sundae bar, she reached the counter where she’d dropped her clutch.
There was nothing there.
“Hey, Darcy, looking for this?” the barista reached under the counter and came back up with her clutch.
“Thanks,” Darcy replied. Most of the staff knew her name, since it was unusual for a female cooler to be in charge. She tried her best but couldn’t remember the barista’s name. “I appreciate it, babe.”
“Maggie, it’s Maggie. Pretty crazy scene, huh? What was that all about?” she asked.
Darcy smiled blandly and ignored the question, running her hand along the inside lining of the clutch.
In the side pocket, next to the $500 chip from last night, she found a set of keys.
She’d never seen them before.
She pulled the keys out to examine them. A random assortment - one that looked like it might unlock handcuffs, a larger car key that said Jeep , and a shamrock encased in clear plastic.
Finn’s keys.
8
T he cool autumn air swirled around Darcy’s bare shoulders.
It was always strange to come out of the womb-like ambiance of the casino and into the gray indifference of the Philadelphia streets. If Stackhouse could have catered in fresher air and bluer skies from the parking areas to the front doors they would have done it.
Darcy jogged across the street to the parking garage, not allowing herself to run until she reached the staircase, out of view of the public eye.
She took the stairs as fast as she could, finally emerging at the top level, where employees were supposed to park.
As soon as she walked into the moonlit open parking area her stomach sang with burning pain from the tattoo.
And her senses receded.
Gone were the sounds of talking in the lot below, gone was the scent of the pigeon droppings.
Could this have something to do with her 300th moon?
There was no time to think about it. She had to find the kid.
Habit caused her to lift her nose to the sky but she couldn’t scent out Finn’s car like she should have been able to do.
Frantically she dug the keys out of her purse and pushed the lock button.
She was rewarded with a beep and a flash of lights a few rows down.
Relieved, she walked toward it briskly, shivering a bit in the air, which had suddenly gone much colder than it was when she’d walked out the casino doors.
Before she could reach it, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.
God, it was impossible not having her keen sense of smell. Darcy felt suddenly vulnerable, an unfamiliar and odious sensation.
She froze, her racing pulse the only sound to reach her ears.
She scanned the area, but found nothing.
Pursing her lips, Darcy headed for the Jeep again. Another flash of movement, this time in a different row. Something dark and sleek.
The shadows rippled again, this time closer to her.
She knew it had to be Draven, no one else would hide from her. But how could they have possibly gotten here before Darcy?
She lifted her nose to the air and
Darcy walked slowly down the hall, smiling at the thought of Finn. Standing in his underwear, surrounded by people who wanted to do bad things to him, and still making jokes and flirting shamelessly.
What was his game?
The kid obviously wasn’t there, or he wouldn’t let them search.
So where was he?
There was no way for Finn to tell her with those two around.
Or was there?
He would have needed to be sure they didn’t pick up on it. Like some kind of code.
If only she could remember what he had said instead of what he’d looked like. Damned magician. What right did he have to be built like that?
She remembered her embarrassment and then his words echoed in her head.
I’ll bet you $500 they don’t find anything…
Shit. Her clutch.
She must have left it on the counter at the coffee bar when the kid showed up.
She began to run, dashing along the edge of the hallway, slowing when she saw clientele leaving the ballroom.
At last she reached the dining room. Pushing past customers in line for the sundae bar, she reached the counter where she’d dropped her clutch.
There was nothing there.
“Hey, Darcy, looking for this?” the barista reached under the counter and came back up with her clutch.
“Thanks,” Darcy replied. Most of the staff knew her name, since it was unusual for a female cooler to be in charge. She tried her best but couldn’t remember the barista’s name. “I appreciate it, babe.”
“Maggie, it’s Maggie. Pretty crazy scene, huh? What was that all about?” she asked.
Darcy smiled blandly and ignored the question, running her hand along the inside lining of the clutch.
In the side pocket, next to the $500 chip from last night, she found a set of keys.
She’d never seen them before.
She pulled the keys out to examine them. A random assortment - one that looked like it might unlock handcuffs, a larger car key that said Jeep , and a shamrock encased in clear plastic.
Finn’s keys.
8
T he cool autumn air swirled around Darcy’s bare shoulders.
It was always strange to come out of the womb-like ambiance of the casino and into the gray indifference of the Philadelphia streets. If Stackhouse could have catered in fresher air and bluer skies from the parking areas to the front doors they would have done it.
Darcy jogged across the street to the parking garage, not allowing herself to run until she reached the staircase, out of view of the public eye.
She took the stairs as fast as she could, finally emerging at the top level, where employees were supposed to park.
As soon as she walked into the moonlit open parking area her stomach sang with burning pain from the tattoo.
And her senses receded.
Gone were the sounds of talking in the lot below, gone was the scent of the pigeon droppings.
Could this have something to do with her 300th moon?
There was no time to think about it. She had to find the kid.
Habit caused her to lift her nose to the sky but she couldn’t scent out Finn’s car like she should have been able to do.
Frantically she dug the keys out of her purse and pushed the lock button.
She was rewarded with a beep and a flash of lights a few rows down.
Relieved, she walked toward it briskly, shivering a bit in the air, which had suddenly gone much colder than it was when she’d walked out the casino doors.
Before she could reach it, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.
God, it was impossible not having her keen sense of smell. Darcy felt suddenly vulnerable, an unfamiliar and odious sensation.
She froze, her racing pulse the only sound to reach her ears.
She scanned the area, but found nothing.
Pursing her lips, Darcy headed for the Jeep again. Another flash of movement, this time in a different row. Something dark and sleek.
The shadows rippled again, this time closer to her.
She knew it had to be Draven, no one else would hide from her. But how could they have possibly gotten here before Darcy?
She lifted her nose to the air and
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