Wicked And Wilde: Immortal Vegas, Book 4 Read Online Free PDF

to Narita International for your Las Vegas flight.”
    I sighed, flopping back in my seat. How had the very Chinese Soo infiltrated the Japanese geisha ranks? Or had they been in collusion all along? I grimaced. It didn’t matter. This was a new job, and Yori wasn’t wrong: Regardless of my role in the war on magic, I didn’t turn work away. Granted, Soo could simply be inviting me to my death, but I had a long history of questionable choices when it came to making money fast.
    I shifted my gaze to the intercom box. “You already know what I’m going to say, I assume.”
    There was no mistaking the smile in the woman’s voice. “Yes, Miss Wilde,” she murmured. “I’ll notify the pilots.”
    It looked like I’d been officially Shanghaied.

Chapter Three
    An all too brief flight and two limos later, I was waved through the fortified gates of the Waldorf Astoria Shanghai. I blinked, trying to make sense of the place. Entering the hotel hadn’t been this much of a production last time.
    Then again, the last time I’d come here, it’d been with my mind, not my body.
    The limo slid up to the covered entrance, and the door was opened almost before the vehicle came to a full stop. A liveried man helped me out, pivoting to escort me up the walk.
    “Are you carrying a weapon?” he asked in a genial voice.
    I shrugged. “White dagger in my messenger bag. That’s it.”
    “You may keep that.” Another attendant came up on my right, the usual bodyguard sandwich. It occurred to me that being so familiar with this routine was an unfortunate commentary on the company I kept.
    The interior of the Waldorf Astoria was richer than I remembered, the great lobby a stunning combination of Old World elegance and New World sleek styling. To our right, a thoroughly modern private elevator stood open with two other guards manning it, and we entered the small chamber silently. The bodyguard used both a key and a pass card to access the top floor, and I played “count the visible weapons” as the elevator doors snicked shut.
    Perhaps I would’ve been smarter to mentally project myself into the Waldorf Astoria for this visit to Soo as well, but it was too late for that now. Besides, kingpins were generally far quicker to give away their money in person. As I knew from personal experience.
    The elevator opened out into a private foyer that was also attended by two beefy bodyguards, who at least had the grace to nod to us as we passed. Hospitality, Chinese syndicate style. Once past the ornate doors that marked the entrance to the private section of the suite of rooms, we paused for acknowledgment by Soo, who stood next to her desk, facing us as if she really was welcoming me for a job interview. The space was sumptuously elegant—flush with soft white drapes and lush cream carpeting and gleaming colonial antiques—in marked contrast to the woman who occupied it.
    Annika Soo stood perhaps five foot four without the platform stilettos, her body draped in a black silk suit that ended below her chin. She was whipcord thin and appeared to be held together with muscle and fury. The last time I’d “seen” her, she’d stuck me with a white samurai sword. Now I pulled out the white dagger and offered it up.
    She waved it away. “Keep it. If we are to work together, it is good that you have a sign of our relationship.”
    “A sign that wouldn’t become obvious until someone searched me, in which case I’d already be in trouble. So not much good after all.” I set the knife on an ornate side table. “You can keep it. With my sincere thanks.”
    Her graceful brows arched. “Your stubbornness does you no favors.”
    “You’re not the first to tell me that.”
    “Indeed.” Soo gestured to the chairs in front of her ornate desk. “We should sit.” With a glance, she dismissed her bodyguards, but my quick scan of the room confirmed three separate cameras trained on the space. Annika Soo might want to give the illusion that we