Embrace The Night (8 page)

With a deep breath, he stilled, focused, and drew deep down inside himself, wavered…and disappeared.

Now he could move quickly, walking across the empty corral toward the Beretta building. He remembered when it had been built, for Mancusi had been interested in one of the condos in what would be Vegas’s premier residential property.

At least until the next hot development came along.

The
gangas
might smell him, but they couldn’t see him, and Simon walked boldly through the entrance of the lobby. It had once been decorated with colorful blown glass that put the Bellagio’s famed glass flower ceiling to shame, but of course, there was nothing left of that but a few swaths of dirty, broken waves. Some of the
gangas
milled about, but most of them were sleeping or lying comatose—or whatever the fuck they did. The ever-present moaning
ruuu-uuth
came out in the form of snores and exhales from the prone monsters.

He counted four that were up and about, and from the way they stiffened and looked in his direction, Simon knew they scented him.

Ignoring the creatures, easily evading their clumsy feet and loglike arms, he hurried through the room, wondering how long Sage would stay put.

I’m not stupid.

Fuck no. And that was a big problem.

Not that a woman like Sage would want anything to do with Simon anyway. Nor could he imagine even touching her with his corrupted hands.

He saw a door in the corner and realized it would be the stairs. And that there might be a building exit in the stairwell.

Moments later, Simon found just what he was looking for. The exit had been locked and barricaded from the inside, which was why he’d not been able to access it when he originally searched for the entrance. But it took him little effort to clear it away and open the door, thanks to the super strength he seemed to have acquired in that Sedona cave.

When he returned to Sage, fully visible again, he found her sitting in nearly the same position in which he’d left her. “Ready?”

She looked up at him, her lovely face dirt- and blood-streaked, her blue eyes accusing. “I thought you might have gone in without me.”

Simon shrugged. Why should she trust him? She didn’t know him, and after all, she probably sensed he was exactly who he was: Simon Japp. Bodyguard, goon, right-hand man to Leonide Mancusi. He might have had a chance to start over, but his sins, his choices, his corruption, still clung to him like a bad odor.

There was no sense in defending himself. “Come on.”

Sage pulled to her feet, and he heard the faint groan of pain as she did so. The cut above her knee had bled into a large dark stain, and he noticed the way it stuck to her skin. That was going to hurt when she undressed—
don’t think about that
. And the cuts and scrapes on her hands…she was lucky they weren’t any worse. Maybe he should check on them before they went any farther.

No. Dragon Boy will make sure she’s all patched up. And then some.

They crossed the corral-like space between the vehicle barrier and the building, running the twenty yards quickly and silently to the door Simon had left open. It was unlikely that the
gangas
would see them from inside the building, and if they did, they’d never figure out where they went or how to find them. Nor could they venture into the sunlight.

Simon was confident they were safe.

“Lots of flights to go,” he said once they were inside the dim stairwell. There was only a window every three or four floors, so the light was iffy. “Twenty-three floors.”

“No problem,” she told him, flashing a quicker, less potent version of the smile that had fairly dropped him to his knees earlier. “I always take the stairs to my room. On the fourteenth floor.”

Simon nodded. It was obvious she got her exercise despite the hours sitting at a computer table. She had a sweet ass and slender, delicate body with curves exactly where they should be.

And she was going to be climbing twenty-three flights of stairs in front of him.

“I’ll go first,” he said, slipping past her. “One flight at a time, then you follow.”

She nodded, surprising him when he was prepared to have to argue and explain the logic of allowing his heavier weight to confirm that the old steps were stable. “Right behind you.”

Simon turned and jogged up the first few flights. The steps were metal and the railings completely intact, except for peeling paint, even after fifty years. He’d gone up a different stairwell awhile earlier, and was confident that they would hold. But it was a good excuse to not have to torture himself.

Twenty minutes later, they reached the top floor of the tower where Remington Truth had a penthouse. Birds fluttered and took flight as Simon and Sage walked across what would have been the threshold to the condo’s entrance. Something rustled in a pile of leaves caught up in the corner.

The apartment’s expansive French doors sagged in place. On the next wall, a stream of light came through a wedge of broken window, while the rest of the plate glass shone grimy and gray. A lush patch of green grew on the floor in an elongated vee where the pure sun would shine and rain would enter, though a bit of tenacious growth attempted to spread beyond the triangular patch.

“I can’t believe it’s still intact,” commented Sage.

Simon raised a finger to his lips and gestured for her to hold back. He didn’t think anyone was here, but he wasn’t about to assume anything. On feet silent over the dried leaves and branches, he moved to the doors and carefully peered into the room beyond.

The place was in shambles, as one would expect. Shadowy furnishings melded with strips and patches of sunlight, and vines and bushes sprouted everywhere. Nothing moved. No sign of life.

Easing the door open, he slipped through and crooked his finger for Sage to follow.

She raised her brows as if to ask permission to speak—why did women always have to talk?—and he nodded, shifting away so that he wouldn’t brush against her shoulder.

“If he was one of the Strangers, one of the people that caused the Change, do you think he meant to live here After?” she asked, looking around the room. “I mean, it might not be an accident that his home wasn’t destroyed. Do you think?”

Good point.
Simon shrugged. “You might be right. But he’s not here now.”

“And he hasn’t been here for decades. Or they wouldn’t be looking for him. I mean, if you found out about this place so easily…” She’d moved along the perimeter of the room, trailing her hand over leather sofas and along a long sleek table, kicking up dust and disturbing birds, mice, and God knew what else. It didn’t seem to bother her, though.

Not squeamish. Smart and practical. And the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Pinche.

Simon turned away and cruised along the other side of the room, then down a dark hall. Something slithered over his foot and he kicked it away, then felt something else bump into his heel as it scurried for safety. No, Remington Truth hadn’t lived here for a long time.

He wasn’t certain exactly what to look for anyway. Surely anything of interest would have been destroyed or found long before now.

What had been the master bedroom opened before him, complete with a waterbed long since drained and a jetted tub large enough for half a dozen people. The skylight over the tub was broken, and tall slender plants grew in the circle of light, spindly and greedy for sun. They looked like skinny bamboo plants, with their random, delicate leaves near the top.

Maybe Truth had some good-luck feng shui bamboo that had sprouted. Simon grimaced as he was reminded that, along with her myriad of crystals, Florita had grown a few stalks of curling green bamboo in a glass vase. She’d lectured Simon on how important their position and placement was for good fortune.

That was early on, when he’d been assigned as her bodyguard, and he’d had no choice but to listen to her prattle on. And on. And on. But then she’d tried to get too friendly with Simon, Mancusi found out…and he’d shipped Florita and her fake tits off with her crystals and bamboo and red candles. But not long after, in true fuck-you spirit, she’d made it huge on the big screen.

And back in East Los, Simon had been promoted, so to speak, because of his loyalty and prudence. And cuffed even more tightly to Mancusi.

“Simon!”

He turned from the bamboo growth in the Jacuzzi tub, making his way quickly toward her voice.

“I found something!”

No fucking way.

When he came into the room, which appeared to have been an office, Sage was standing in the center of a pool of sun. She was holding a small black item. “Look!”

“A jump drive?”

She nodded, her aqua blue eyes shining. “It was wedged inside that desk drawer there, and it’s so small, it would have been easy to miss. Besides, I’m sure they took any computers or files he might have had.”

Simon examined the small black flash disk drive and came to the conclusion that it might just have survived fifty years exposed to the elements. The
USB
plug slid in and out, and the whole thing was cased in soft, protective plastic that appeared intact. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He looked up and gave her a little smile. “It might have something interesting on it. Or it might just have a bunch of old Neil Diamond songs.”

“Who?”

He smiled before he caught himself. “Look him up. Isn’t that what you do?” Simon turned away before the bantering could go any further. Bantering led to camaraderie, and camaraderie led to flirtation, and flirtation could only lead to fucking trouble.

He wandered close to a massive opening in the wall, a window broken completely away, and looked out over the ruins of Las Vegas.

The ocean—the damned Pacific Ocean, here in Vegas!—sparkled blue and green to the west and north, and between this structure and the water were a variety of buildings and ruins. Brick, glass, curling steel beams, all fringed with green and other organic trim.

“Do you have to stand so close to the edge?”

He cast a look over his shoulder. “You afraid of heights?”

Sage shook her head. “No. But I don’t see why you have to stand so close to the edge.”

Simon shrugged, fighting a grin, and turned to look back out over—and froze. “What the…” he muttered, moving closer to the side of the window where he wouldn’t be seen. Curling his fingers around the edge, he carefully leaned forward for a better look. Space loomed before and below him, and a little breeze skimmed his cheeks.

“What is it?” Then, she must have seen how near the edge he was, because she added, “Simon! Be careful! You’re going to fall.”

He swallowed a chuckle. If she only knew how close he’d come to death so many times. “Looks like a boat of some sort, on the shore…” Some type of watercraft had definitely been pulled up on the rough beach. Out of sight of Envy, here on the northwest side of the deserted area…That didn’t bode well.

He scanned the area between the shoreline and the building, the hair on the back of his arm lifting and prickling like it did when he knew something bad was about to happen. It was like a sixth sense.

The ruined buildings and their rubble-strewn footprints hid much of the ground, but then he saw them. Three men, walking…pushing a large, enclosed wagonlike object making their way toward the Beretta building. Much too close; in fact, they were just about to the vehicle barrier.

Pinche.

But how were they going to get that big cage through the barrier? He watched a moment longer, and then saw the ramp. The men had pulled it from a pile of debris and were putting it into place.

Damn.
“They’re coming,” he said turning to Sage, adrenaline pumping through him and clearing his thoughts. “We’ve got to go
now
.” Before they get over the barrier and into the corral.

“
Gangas
?” she said, following him toward the door without hesitation.

“Strangers. Or bounty hunters. But whoever they are, they’re not coming from Envy. They came from the west. From the ocean.” And they were either bringing something for the
gangas
…or more
gangas
…or planning to take something away.

Then he heard it…faint on the air. Howls.

Definitely
ganga
feeding time.
Fuck.

He should have expected it. The wolf remains below in the
gangas’
lobby were old and dried…not recent. If the Strangers, or whoever set the zombies to guard the building, visited regularly to check on and feed them, it had been a while since they’d come. And why wouldn’t they come today, when he and Sage were there poking around?

It just about figured.

As they hurried through the ravaged condo toward the French doors, Simon kept his ears attuned for any sounds from below. But he didn’t need to listen to know that the ramp would soon be in place and those wolves would be released into the corral.

The
gangas
would be happy—distracted, probably—but that would make it all the more impossible for him and Sage to cross back over.

If the Strangers didn’t come into the corral, maybe they could wait it out.

Sage stumbled and he grabbed her arm. Smart, not squeamish…but a bit of a klutz.

“Ow,” she gasped and more of her weight tipped against him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. But when she tried to pull away, she sagged again. “I might have pulled something.”

“Or twisted it.” He saw that she couldn’t put her full weight on her left foot. “Okay, come on.” He steadied her by linking his arm around hers and she hobbled along with him across the threshold to the stairwell.

This was definitely going to be a long trip down.

“Hold on. Stay here a sec.”

Simon settled her inside the stairwell and dashed back into the condo to look out the window at the Strangers’ progress.
Pinche.
He could already see the pack of wolves down in the corral, and the three men standing about with some sort of weapon—guns? Tazers maybe?—to keep the feral animals away from them as they herded them into the lobby.