“Stop.” Jameson raised a hand, cutting off my protests. He said, “Scarlett, we’ve got this under control. You saw the show, you know that I’m fine. Your part in this is over.”

I just looked at him, my arms crossed over my chest. Abruptly, he stood and picked the rest of his clothes up off the floor. He started yanking them on as he spoke. “Besides, now that you’ve gotten the skinners’ attention, what do you think is going to happen to Juliet? And Bethany, and poor pregnant Tara? Not to mention the local witch, Laurel Nash.”

I jerked back, stunned.

He knew. He’d known all along about my sister-in-law and her friends. I scooted to the far side of the bed, but that wasn’t far enough away from him. I pushed off the bed, yanking the sheet around me, and stalked down to the seating area, trying to rein in my temper. I looked out the window and took a few deep breaths. Behind me, I could hear him putting on the rest of his clothes. Then the movements stopped.

“Scarlett . . .”

I spun around. “First,” I said coldly, “it’s TAR-uh, like the sticky stuff in parking lots. Second, how the fuck did you know about them?”

Jameson kept his voice perfectly calm, but he didn’t exactly look repentant. “I told you, this is my town now. I’ve been here long enough to know people at all the casinos.” He held up two fingers. “It took me two calls to the Venetian staff to figure out who you were here with, and why. Imagine how fast the skinners could find them. What were you thinking, coming here with civilians?”

I stared at him for a long moment. “You’ve been checking up on me?” He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. “For who? Yourself, or the Holmwoods?”

“They still don’t know you’re here,” he said, his voice flat. “I’ve made sure of it.”

“Oh, so you just . . . what? Didn’t trust me?”

“It’s been years, Scarlett,” he answered. He had to sit on the bed to put his sneakers on. “You said it, too: we’ve both changed.”

I couldn’t help feeling betrayed. Had I been wrong to trust him? Had I been stupid to sleep with him? Probably and probably. I hugged my arms against my body. “Yeah, well, I think one of us changed more than the other.”

“Don’t be a child, Scarlett,” he snapped, tying his shoes like he was hoping to hurt them. “Go home. Back to your nice little life. This is my problem, and there’s no reason to get your humans caught up in it.”

Anger and hurt boiled up in me, but I didn’t trust those feelings, either. Was he pushing me away because he thought it would keep me safe, or did he actually think I was useless?”

Either way, the rational part of my brain knew that he was right: I’d taken a hell of a risk bringing Juliet and her friends here, especially after I’d agreed to take up Wyatt’s cause.

“Okay, you win,” I said flatly. “I’ll shut down the bachelorette party. Today, now.”

His shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you,” he said, looking surprisingly not smug.

I turned back to the window. After a few seconds, I heard the hotel room door open and shut.

Chapter 25

I sat on the couch for a long time after Jameson left, trying not to look at the clock. I was probably supposed to be somewhere right then, celebrating life and love with the rest of Juliet’s friends. I knew my cell phone had buzzed a couple of times, probably Juliet wanting to know how my “meeting” had gone, or just to check up on me. She was really nice, my sister-in-law. A hell of a lot nicer than me.

Nice people probably don’t sit around in bedsheets ignoring everyone while they stare at dark television screens. But I stayed that way for a long time, weighing my shitty options.

I’d made a promise to Wyatt. I wanted the money for Logan, but I also wanted the vampire to get the answers he needed. No one else was going to help him—not Silvio, not the Holmwoods. If they cared about the skinners, it was only in terms of protecting themselves. No one was looking out for the vampires of Las Vegas. And no matter what Jameson said, they weren’t monsters, at least not all of them.

But Jameson had been right about one thing. It was time to stop risking Juliet and her friends. I hadn’t lied when I’d told him I would shut down the bachelorette party. When I couldn’t put it off any longer, I heaved a sigh and went to get my phone.

Molly answered on the first ring. “Wasssup,” she drawled. “Remember those commercials? Weren’t they annoying?”

“Molls, what time will you be back in LA tonight?”

She must have picked up on the urgency in my voice, because she dropped the goofy tone immediately. “Actually, I’m just passing Panorama City. I decided to drive as far as Bakersfield last night so I’d have time to hang out with Corry. What’s wrong?”

The sun had only set forty-five minutes ago, and Bakersfield to Panorama City was usually an hour and a half, which tells you everything you need to know about Molly’s driving habits. “I need a favor,” I said. “A terrible, terrible favor.”

“Name it,” she said promptly, her voice immediately losing its mirth. “It’s yours.”

I felt sick with self-loathing, but I pushed past it. “Remember that time you pressed Jack for me?” I began.

When I’d hung up with Molly, I called Wyatt’s cell phone. “Do you have access to Ellen’s cell phone records?” I asked, and explained Jesse’s theory about the missing vampires being invited to a secret event.

“We use prepaid cells,” he said. “I think you can still look up the call history online, but I’ve never tried it. Give me a few minutes to figure it out and I’ll call you back.”

“Fine.”

I took a long, hot shower, washing the smell of Jameson off me. I tried not to think too much about our last conversation. Then I got dressed in what I usually think of as my work clothes: jeans, tee shirt, boots. I’d already gotten Cliff’s blood off the soles, thanks to way too much practice. I was still toweling my hair when the phone rang. It was Dashiell.

“I’ve heard from the cardinal vampires in several cities that the Holmwoods have visited,” he began. “The results were mixed. A handful of vampires did go missing in Barcelona, Prague, and Rome, around the same time the Holmwoods appeared, but I’m not sure one could prove a connection. This was four or five vampires, not thirty. And we do move around.”

I slumped on the bed. No leads there. “Okay, thank you.”

“You are being careful, aren’t you, Scarlett?” he asked.

You mean like having sex with untrustworthy men? “Sure I am.”

A few minutes later, Juliet called. Cringing, I took a deep breath and answered the phone. I deserved this.

“Scarlett?” I could already hear the tears in her voice. “Jack just called. He’s been in a car accident.”

“Oh no!” I said, trying to sound appropriately shocked. “Is he okay? Were the kids in the car?”

“No, they were at after-school stuff, but Jack hit his head, they think, because he can’t remember anything and the car is totaled and I’ve got to get back there,” she said, sobbing. “Can I borrow Cliff’s SUV? I don’t have his number . . .”

“He’ll drive you,” I said promptly. “Bethany and Tara should go, too.”

“No, you don’t have to stop the party . . .”

“Jules, of course we do. We can’t have a bachelorette party without the bachelorette.”

“What about you? Aren’t you coming?”

“If you need me, or if Jack’s in serious danger, of course I’ll come,” I said, crossing my fingers that she wouldn’t call the bluff. “But it’ll be hard to pack us all into Cliff’s car, and I’m supposed to sign the contracts for Dashiell tomorrow morning. I’ll try to move them to tonight, and get the first flight out tomorrow. If that doesn’t work, I’ll rent a car. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” she sniffed. Lucky for me, she was too upset to wonder why anyone would sign business contracts on a Sunday morning. We talked for a few more minutes about logistics, and I hung up hating myself. If I’d had more time, I would have tried to come up with a gentler way to get Juliet to rush back to LA, but with short notice I had few options.