Temptress Read Online Free Page A

bathroom. “Or do you like to go by Thinktank in private?” I wouldn’t put it past him. He seemed like the kind of guy who was all hero, all the time. Standing like a tower of muscles, he wouldn’t have looked out of place with a cape and an eye mask.
    “Just Tank.”
    Why was I not surprised?
    “Well, Tank.” I moved into the bedroom and grabbed my robe from the dresser. “I’m going to change. You can do whatever you want. Call your buddies and tell them you’re safe.” I belted the silk around me and let the towel fall to the floor. Tank didn’t react, but he was definitely watching. “Just don’t invite them over unless they want to lose their powers too.”
    Tank’s face tightened. I slipped into the walk-in closet and shut the door. He could pout as much as he wanted as long as he didn’t bring his buddies to my doorstep. I sighed as I slipped into a pair of loose jeans. However this fiasco ended, I was going to have to move again. It had been, what? Ten months at the Palms? That was a personal best. Caesar’s would take me back in a heartbeat, but their chief of security still squicked me out. No self-respecting ex-Marine should wear a mullet. Maybe Mandalay? They had some sweet penthouses.
    I sighed again and shrugged into an NYU hoodie. My stomach rumbled. I hadn’t eaten since who knew when, unless booze counted as food. My head and aching body reminded me that wine was not in the food pyramid. Ramen and Iron Chef on DVR would’ve hit the spot, but Tank was on the phone in the living room. He cut his conversation when I walked in. Far be it from me to disturb him in my own home.
    I pointed downstairs, and Tank nodded. He could stay right where he was. We might be stuck together, but I wasn’t babysitting.
    The elevator offered blissful silence, but as soon as I was alone, pain crashed. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought my arms were hanging by threads of tendon, and that someone had hammered a few railroad spikes into my skull. Not even my eyes were immune. Damned lasers. But I knew better. I shouldn’t have used them.
    The doors pinged, and a wave of noise blasted in. I slipped out as a pack of co-eds stumbled in on their stilettos. Why did women wear shoes they couldn’t walk in? Or wear six-inchers to get wasted? I never went higher than four on missions, and at the moment, flip-flops were all I could manage.
    On a Friday night, midnight was early by Vegas standards, and the casino was packed. Slots pinged, and a big crowd clustered around the high-stakes blackjack tables, cheering so loudly I winced. With all the women in slinky dresses and mini-skirts, my hoodie and jeans didn’t exactly blend. I caught a few dirty looks as I wove through the hallways. As I passed the Playboy Club, Donny, the massive Samoan bouncer, waved and motioned to lift the rope. That earned me a lot more dirty looks as everyone in line turned to see who rated. I smiled and shook my head. He shrugged.
    The clubs would be way more than I could handle. I needed food, and then I was going straight to bed like a good little girl.
    I slipped to an employee door but fumbled with my key fob. My hands were still raw from the fire and ice, and I hadn’t had a chance to put on my burn cream. Another strike against Tank. What if he had to stay for a while? What if his powers never went back? I shuddered.
    “Excuse me, Miss? This is employees-only.” A bright-eyed, square-jawed security guy touched my shoulder. He had to be new.
    “I’m authorized.” I waved my fob against the plate and the locks beeped, but he grabbed my sleeve.
    “I’m sorry.” He took in the hoodie and flip-flops. “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me.”
    Burning eyes or not, I thought about lasering IDIOT onto his forehead. Before I could, someone grabbed the new guy’s wrist. “You’re not harassing our VIP, are you, Rick?” The larger man glared.
    “Sir, she—” New guy’s eyes widened.
    “She has a higher