Born To Be Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 3 (8 page)

I stared at him, my voice suddenly not working right. “I had a grandmother?”

Brody’s lips tightened. “
No
, Sara. That’s what I’m trying to get across to you. When we recovered Sheila Rose Pelter’s body from the Mississippi River, we performed a DNA check to verify her identity. It came back with more information than we planned. You don’t share the same genetic markers. You’re not Sheila Pelter’s biological daughter.”

Everything had started to spin. “And you think…”

“It’s the only explanation,” Brody finished my words for me. “Someone paid a stranger to take care of you, from the moment you were born.”

Chapter Five

It’s not every day you find out your whole life has been a lie.

I was handling it as well as could be expected.

“Hey, doll—whoa, what the hell happened to you?” Nikki slid into the booth opposite me, eyeing Brody while I focused on my bourbon. The Magician hadn’t reached out to touch my mind again, but that was okay. It was well on its way to being pickled.

Beside me, Brody nodded to Nikki, the two of them exchanging cop glances without actually admitting to doing so. I’d stopped counting the drinks after about four, and Brody had done his level best to leaven each of my bourbons with a tumbler of water. I’d stopped counting those too, but at least I was well hydrated.

When I didn’t answer Nikki right away, Brody waded into the breach. “This new attack on Sara brought up some old history that needed to be aired. Timing wasn’t great, but necessary.”

“Old history?”

“My mom,” I said, looking up at Nikki. I blinked, but it wasn’t the booze. Today Nikki had ditched her usual auburn coif and was going full ’60s starlet, complete with blonde wig, yellow minidress, and white go-go boots. She looked…exceptionally bright. “She wasn’t my mom, turns out. She was paid to take care of me. Paid well.”

“Another round,” Nikki said to the waitress I hadn’t noticed beside us. I returned my gaze to my glass, and Nikki leaned forward, elbows on the table. “You had to have known this for a while,” she said, her attention on Brody. “Why bring it up now?”

“Those posters you two found.” Brody rubbed his two-day beard. “I’m not sure how much you know about Sara’s last job in Memphis, but three of those kids were ours to track down. We couldn’t find anything on them, not even with Sara’s cards. Then all of a sudden, the woman we believed was her mother is killed, Sara’s house is blown up, Sara goes off the grid. If the man behind those attacks is back, she needed to know the full story.”

“Three of the kids were ones you searched for,” Nikki repeated, tilting her head. “What about the others?”

“They weren’t connected to our case at the time, but I’ve got inquiries out.” Brody sat back as the waitress arrived with more drinks. “They’re clearly connected now. No question in my mind that we’re dealing with the same guy.”

“Viktor Dal,” I supplied. I slumped lower in the booth, willing the liquor to kick in. So far, it hadn’t done more than take the barest edge off the pain. “Some stuff on him has finally come through Brody’s people. Dal’s a Turkish black market dealer. Traffics in drugs and sex, but not Connecteds, not that anyone’s ever heard. His tastes run older by a fair margin for the sex trade too. Kids don’t make sense for his business. Psychic kids make less sense.”

“You ever heard of him?” Brody asked Nikki.

“No, which isn’t to say I would have,” she said thoughtfully. “Dixie might, if he’s mucking around in the Connected community.”

“She doesn’t need to be a part of this,” Brody snapped back, and Nikki patted his arm.

“Not saying she does, love chop. But she knows a hell of a lot of people, and she has for a long time. Wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

Brody shrugged, but his tension had definitely tightened a few notches. He and Dixie had sort of a thing going. I hadn’t really begun to deal with said thing, and this didn’t seem a good time to start.

Nikki kept going. “But probably not unless he’s been active in the US.” She turned to me. “This Viktor guy is the one who put up those flyers?”

“Maybe.” I twirled my bourbon. “No way to know.”

“There aren’t any more of them, at least nowhere near the Strip,” Nikki said. “The construction people also report that they don’t allow posting, so the flyers couldn’t have been up for more than a few hours at the outside. Considering you were coming in from Germany…”

“He had to know my schedule.”

“Down to the minute, dollface. That car was waiting for you.”

“I notice you never reported your involvement as a concerned citizen, including your banged-up limo.” It was Brody’s turn to scowl at Nikki. “You see anything that could be helpful?”

“Two cars, out-of-state plates, rentals. Late-model sedans, nothing special. The damaged one’s either been dumped or retooled, I’m thinking. Two men in car number one, or two very big females. You see anything in yours?”

“Two occupants, not large, could go either way.”

“So four hitmen to one Sara.” Nikki raised her glass. “You’re coming up in the world.” She eyed me over the rim. “You want to tell me what happened in Germany, since we’re all being chatty like?”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you weren’t surprised, dollface. The posters threw you, but not the shooters. Job go south?”

I suddenly didn’t care about keeping confidences. Nothing really mattered anymore. “Viktor hired an old friend to track me down. My friend did, but he also gave me enough breathing room to split.”

Nikki nodded. “Who else knew your location?”

“What old friend?” asked Brody. I didn’t bother answering that one.

“Client. No one else.” I shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to keep it secret, though. Private jet into Germany, but public transport from there. The art auction was well-known in the right circles.”

“Art auction,” Brody said flatly. “Is this another job for that Kreios character? No wonder you got shot at.”

“No shooting in Germany. And let’s face it, they could have shot me last night if they’d really wanted to.”

“Definitely. We were sitting ducks.” Nikki tilted her head, her blonde hair bouncing. “Of course, if they shot to separate us, that certainly worked.”

At that moment, I hit critical mass on both the conversation and my liquid intake, and batted at Brody until he let me slide out of the booth to hit the bathroom. Walking through the bar was surreal. My head was buzzing from the alcohol, but not nearly enough. It was buzzing more from the bomb Brody had dropped at his house. He’d held that information back from me for weeks. Why? Had he ever been planning to tell me? Did he not think I had a right to know?

In the bathroom, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the eyes of a stranger. Not Sariah Pelter. Not Sara Wilde. Not anyone I knew anymore.

It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, though. It felt almost…right.

And that really
did
make me nervous.

When I finally wheeled out of the bathroom and back into the bar, I heard a familiar Southern drawl exclaim with delight at finding “Duh-TECT-ive Ruhks” and Nikki.

Dixie Quinn. Astrologer and owner of the Chapel of Everlasting Love in the Stars. Mother hen to all the Connecteds in Vegas.

And…Brody’s current arm candy.

The biggest part of me, the childish part, wanted to do nothing but waltz right out of the bar and into the relative freedom of the Vegas street…possibly into an oncoming car. If only to put a new spin on the day.

But as I watched Brody’s face as he gazed up at Dixie, something twisted inside me. Not a bad twist, I was surprised to note. It was more similar to the detached sensation I’d experienced looking at my own reflection. Brody wasn’t mine to want, not anymore. Not ever, really. The Sariah Pelter who’d known him was a girl who had never existed. As Sara Wilde, I had things to do where I couldn’t take a cop along for the ride. Not unless I wanted to put him literally in the line of fire of Viktor.

Viktor Dal.

Images lined up in tight formation. This, I could focus on. This, I could claim as my own. Viktor had stolen six children from their parents, their families. He’d also stolen the only family I’d ever known from me. Sheila Rose Pelter might have been a drunk and a borderline addict, and might simply have been doing her job
acting
as my mother, but she’d kept a roof over my head for seventeen years before Viktor had come along. She hadn’t known her life was in danger from some maniac she’d never met. And Viktor had killed her in cold blood.

I didn’t know much of who I was anymore, but one thing I did know. Viktor needed to pay for that crime.

And Brody couldn’t be any part of that. He needed to stay the hell out of the way. If Dixie helped that happen, great.

Even knowing all that, forcing myself to walk over to the table was harder than I would have expected. Smiling brightly, I slid in next to Nikki, inviting Dixie to join us. Brody’s smile tensed but got easier as more drinks arrived and food was discussed. It took only a few minutes for me to realize that I was relaxing too, no more bourbon required. This was…easier, I realized, thinking of Brody and Dixie together. This felt right.

I had enough problems to manage without adding Brody to the mix.

It didn’t take long for Nikki to steer the conversation back to the problem at hand, but when she asked about Viktor Dal, Dixie’s response surprised us all. “Viktor! Well, bless my stars. I haven’t heard that name in an age and a half.” She blinked her big eyes at our startled faces. “Why are you asking? Do
not
tell me he’s dead. He was the sweetest man.”

“Sweet, huh?” Nikki grinned, leaning back, her face wreathed in “I told you so” smugness. “How’d you know him?”

“Well, he was one of Roxie’s friends, at least for a while, back when she was entertaining and all. The last party, gosh, maybe would have been fifteen years ago?” She chuckled with a blush that only added to her charm. “I swear, time passes far too quickly when you’re not paying attention.”

Brody reached out and squeezed her hand, the move so unselfconscious that my new-found detachment had its chain yanked. But I kept my face neutral as he spoke. “You said he was a nice guy?”

“Nice as pie. Handsome, in an austere, chilly sort of way. Light blond hair, light skin. Wispy beard. But it was his eyes that were his best feature. Kind eyes, gentle. The kind of eyes that made you feel you could trust him, you know?”

“Sounds like a likable fellow,” Nikki said. “What’d he do for a living?”

“Ran a relief organization in India, maybe? I mean, I don’t know that that was his job, job. But it certainly was his passion. He and Roxie were very tight.”

I didn’t choke on my bourbon, but I should have as all the dots connected with a bang in my head.
Holy Mother of Crow.
Up until a short while ago, Roxie had been the Empress of the Arcana Council. Which meant that Viktor—devious, despicable, disappeared Viktor—had to be linked to the Council as well. Maybe more than linked. Maybe a lot more.

Brody’s eyes narrowed on me across the table, but I didn’t have time for him. I didn’t have time for anyone other than people who could give me answers, and those people were not in this room.

They were, however, in this city.

“Guys, I think I’m going to—”

“No, wait, I wanted to tell you!” Dixie brightened and turned to me with beseeching eyes. She did beseeching very well. Brody didn’t stand a chance. “You remember you asked about Jimmy next door?”

I blinked at her. “Who?”

“Next door! Jimmy Shadow. Darkworks Ink? The tattoo parlor?”

“Oh! Sure, right.” The tattoo parlor next to Dixie’s wedding chapel was every bit as Vegas kitsch as the Chapel of Everlasting Love in the Stars, but with less white stucco. And no costumed plaster geese. “Did he decide to get married or something?”

Dixie snorted daintily, as only she could do. “Hardly. All this time, I thought he was the owner of the store, but today he bursts in asking for flowers. Flowers! His boss is relocating back to the Strip, he said, and he wanted to make the place look nice for her. Not that I think pink and white carnations would do anything to spruce up the décor of a tattoo parlor, but you know, boys.” She lifted a shoulder, as if to dismiss the decorating abilities of the entire masculine gender. “He was totally adorable and earnest. It did my heart good to see him that way. He always sort of scowls, you know?”

I nodded, edging her gently toward her point. “So did you meet the boss?”

“And she’s a her?” Nikki put in on the heels of my question. “That place totally reeks of guy, I gotta say.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Brody held up his hands.

“I didn’t meet her, but I
saw
her.” Dixie’s eyes shone with the gleam of the victorious gossip. “And believe me, she suits the place just fine. She’s white as snow with a partially shaved head, piercings that run up her ears and one full sleeve of ink that I could see. She showed up today in a tank top and leather jeans on the back of a motorcycle, and stumbled off, totally drunk, if you ask me. Jimmy comes running out and grabs her, and I caught the barest glimpse of her face.” Dixie sniffed delicately. “I suspect she’s usually pretty, even with the haircut. But when I saw her, she looked like death.”

Every one of my nerve endings pricked to attention. I slid a glance toward Nikki. “I don’t suppose you go in for tattoos? If only to be polite and meet the neighbors?”

“And mar the perfection of my girlish form? Not a chance.” Nikki grinned. She eyed Brody. “And you, sir?”

He shook his head. “Tattoos were frowned on when I joined the force, and I joined the force young,” he said. “By the time I got to a place where I didn’t think it would matter, the urge had passed.” He raised a brow at Dixie. “You?”

“Well, none I would reveal in polite company,” she simpered.

“Right.” I took another hard slug of bourbon, then pushed the glass away from me. “Thanks for the scoop, Dixie—and guys, for the drinks. I think I’m going to head home.”

Brody straightened instantly. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, you won’t.” I held up a hand, doing my level best to keep it steady. It was easier than it should have been. While the rest of the Strip had had their magical mojo recently enhanced, I’d apparently been given preternatural skills at holding my liquor. Everybody had to have a gift, I suppose. “I need the fresh air, and the Palazzo is right up the street. I’ll be fine. I’ll call you tomorrow about next steps.”