Wolverine

Chapter-23

Victor's POV

If there was one place I loved, it was Vegas.

You could call it the City of Sin, or a gambler's paradise, but its businesses were just looking to entertain you, no matter how freaky you liked your entertainment.

It might have been a mistake on my part to take Jacob. He stuck out, and not just because he was almost seven feet tall. As old as he looked, when he stared up at the neon signs promising cheap lap dances and exotic performances, you knew he was still a kid.

"Keep sharp, Jake! The last thing we need is some bouncer asking for I.D., so at least try to look like you've done this before." I grinned at him as we shouldered our way through the crowd.

Jacob glared at me. "Have you done something like this before?" he asked rudely.

I grinned wider. "I'm a permanent bachelor. Not a lot of women stay young forever, although most seem willing to do anything to accomplish just that."

Jacob snorted, but he straightened up a little. We shouldered our way into a casino. I sniffed the air experimentally. Yes, I could smell the metal. Remy Lebeau was close.

I tapped Jacob on the shoulder and pointed to a crowded poker table. "You think he's there?" I asked.

He inhaled deeply and shrugged. "I can't pinpoint the smell. He could be anywhere."

"Let's go see, anyway," I said, unwilling to give up. Bella didn't have the time. I had driven two straight days to get to Vegas. I was tired and hungry, and if I didn't find this Remy Lebeau soon, I was going to get angry.

Nobody wanted to see me angry.

Jacob held back as I sat at the table, still inhaling subtly. "Mind if I cut in?" I asked, flashing two sets of razor-sharp teeth at the intoxicated gamblers. They flinched back predictably. I did so love the perks of being a freak.

"Not at all, Monsieur," one of the younger men said smoothly. He had a heavy Cajun accent.

I locked eyes with him. His black hat made this difficult as it was tilted low over his forehead. He wore a dark blue button up shirt. He was a good-looking kid, no older than twenty-one.

I sniffed again.

Scratch that. This kid was no kid.

"Are you Remy Lebeau?" I asked.

The boy held up a handful of cards and dropped them into his other hand. "Do I owe you money?" he asked.

"Nope," I said easily.

The boy took off his hat in a show of greeting. "Then Remy Lebeau, I am." He grinned at me. "And who might you be?"

"I know an old sparring partner of yours." I hoped he would take the hint. For some reason, those cards looked dangerous in his hands, sharp enough to cut through bone.

Lebeau put his hat back on and shuffled the cards again. His fingers were quick by human standards. I bet he would have made a good magician.

"Really?" he asked, exaggerating the word.

I was watching his hands, so I didn't notice his eyes change colour until it was too late. They glowed as bright red as a newborn vampire's. And, of course, since I was looking at his eyes, I didn't see the cards move until they were smashing into my chest.