Mai looked displeased, but she flicked a hand. "Never mind. I have plenty of money. Daddy still gives me an allowance, as long as I stay out of his hair."
"No," Griffen said. "I'll pay for it." He did some calculation in his head. "It just means I'll have to buy dresses for Val and Fox Lisa, too."
Mai raised an eyebrow. "Val might take your head off if you offer. She is getting very independent about making her own way in the world. Now, I don't mind if gentlemen buy me fine things."
"It's not just that," Griffen said. They both knew that Val was still upset about the bodyguards he had following her. But the guys, who were happy to help Ms. Valerie stay safe, were convinced, first of all, that they would not have to do more than clean up if there was a problem, maybe moving the bodies to a place where they could bleed to death in peace, and second, that he was right about other watchers being interested in her whereabouts. "I'll have to offer, anyhow. And Fox Lisa was excited to be in the court, but right now she's only working part-time." She wouldn't admit it, but it would be tough for her to make rent if she had to buy a dress on top of the other fees.
Mardi Gras was expensive. But Fox Lisa took the yearly festival in her stride. She was thrilled about everything, and insisted it was an honor to pay the three thousand dollars Fafnir demanded for her role as maid. They supplied her costumes, masks, all her throws, and her ball ticket. Griffen was relieved there was ONE expense he was not expected to cover. A dress for her was okay with him.
"Very well," Mai said. "I will pay for my own dress, but you will take me for a very expensive dinner. And you will pay for that."
"Yes, ma'am," he said.
Griffen gestured to the waiter to pour more wine for Mai. He stayed with a single whisky, so he would be sober enough to drive home. If he lost another car, this time it would not be his fault. She lifted the glass to him behind the crystal candlesticks. He toasted her back.
"Thank you for joining me today," he said.
"A pleasure," she said, taking a sip. "How is the business? I have scarcely heard a word from you lately. Normally, you have many stories to tell. I think it is both amusing and ambitious the way you are bringing backroom poker to such high standards."
Griffen made a face at her. "That was one backhanded compliment," he said. "I haven't really wanted to tell anyone about the problems we've been having this week." He told her about the cheating scandal. "This man, an Asian-American guy I haven't seen before, was adamant that two of our regulars had held back a card and screwed up the game on purpose. The victims are very straight. I would trust either of them to hold on to a hundred thousand dollars for me and never think of even borrowing from it for themselves. No way they could have been cheating."
"You think he was responsible?"
"I hate to think so," Griffen admitted. "But there are ways to rig a game for other players. I could do it. It's tricky to set up, but it can be done. The whole thing was just a big pain in the ass. Everyone went away mad. Then, in another game, there was a woman--also Asian-American, now that I think about it--Jerome never saw her before, accused the dealer of stacking the deck. The dealer is furious. We had to talk him out of quitting. Another mess. And now I've got this guy who seems perfectly nice, but Jer doesn't like him. I sat in on a late-night game with him yesterday. I just don't feel what Jerome feels. Peter is just too nice. No one is that nice all the time except Mister Rogers. He even loses like a gentleman. Funny, but he's Asian, too."
Mai's internal antennae went up. She didn't like Jerome, who had her number but was not in a position to fight her, but the facts suggested an unseen concurrence of events that she did not like. Griffen picked up on her concerned expression and looked alarmed.
"I'm not picking on these people just because of their background," he insisted. "I'm just telling you about the trouble we've had this week. It's just a coincidence that they were all Asian-Americans."
"No, no." She waved away the suggestion. "I would never think that of you. No. That isn't what I thought at all."
Griffen was not stupid. He made the connection immediately. "You do think there's something in it. Can these three events have anything to do with the Eastern dragons? I thought they were letting me alone for a while."
"I do not know," Mai said honestly. Could there be something more than coincidence? She needed to find out. "I doubt it, Griffen. They did plan to leave you alone." Except for her machinations, of course.
"And on top of that, Harrison is still busting my ass over the murder," Griffen added woefully.
"Murder?"
He leaned close to the candles so the waitress couldn't hear. "One of my dealers was strangled. An Eastern dragon named Jesse Lee. He came over from their operation. He said he wasn't getting the advancements he deserved. He'd been with me for three months. I don't know what happened. Harrison has no leads and no witnesses, but he's sure I'm holding out on him."
Mai was outraged. An Eastern dragon, murdered? That meant someone from one of the families. Who else but they--or the George--would know how to kill a dragon? Her temper flared. The two candles between them responded. Their flames flared high. People turned to look. She controlled herself, and the flames shrank to normal size. She grabbed Griffen's hand. "Tell Harrison you will help him in any way."
"Of course I will," Griffen said. "Did you know Jesse?"
"No," she said. "But I should have."
They finished their dinner over trivial small talk. Mai was quiet and thoughtful as they drove back to the hotel.
"Should I come up?" Griffen asked, as he popped the trunk for the bell captain to retrieve Mai's red silk dress in its plastic bags.
"I think I will go up by myself," she said. She leaned over to kiss him. "Thank you for a lovely day."
"Thank you," he said, looking puzzled. Mai stalked to the elevator and punched the button for her floor. She had a lot of thinking to do.
At 3:43 Sunday morning, the door to the luxury suite slammed open. Jordan Ma leaped to his feet. All night long, he had felt a questing power seeking him, so he did not undress or go to bed. He had sat still in the leather armchair in the darkened sitting room, waiting. Whoever it was grew closer and closer over the course of the hours. At last, he recognized that the seeker had firmed his location. Target acquired and locked, he thought. It would be useful to know whether a friend or foe sought him, but it was simpler to wait and find out. He was not without defenses. It was unlikely to be Griffen McCandles, who was far stronger than he, but unschooled, and anyone else in the city was a manageable threat.
A small, slim figure stood silhouetted by the hall lights in the rectangle of the door frame. She stalked in. No dragon of her blood needed lights to locate him, just as he did not require them to see and identify her.
"Well, well, Mai," he said. "Welcome, Princess-who-is-not."
She did not startle. The slamming-open of the door was for effect, not to surprise. She knew he would be alert.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded. In the dark, he saw not the human lineaments of her face but a flickering mask of power that would identify her no matter what shape she wore.
"Since ten o'clock, I have been waiting for you," he said.
"No! I mean, what are you doing in New Orleans?"
"The concerns of the elders are my concerns," Jordan said. "As they should have been yours."
"They are my concerns!" Mai said. The conversation was not going as she intended it to. She tightened her hands into fists. She had crossed paths with Jordan Ma before, several times. He was insufferable and proud, but clever. He had gone to a lot of trouble to make the elders think that he was more valuable than he was. She did not want him interfering in her mission. She must take control of the situation and keep it.
It had taken her hours to scan the city and find him. Of course, he occupied a luxury suite in a fancy hotel. To her annoyance, it was not far from her own hotel. He was aware of her search. She knew that would be likely. She hated that he seemed amused by her.
"What do you want?" he asked, sounding almost bored. "I would like to go to bed, soon. Not with you, of course."
"Are you responsible for the death of an Eastern dragon? One of our own kind?"
"I assume you mean the traitor to our cause," Jordan said. The shadow of his face was drawn into an expression of scorn. "Jesse Lee was warned."
"He was a child! He had promise."
"But not for us. Once he removed himself from the clan, he was on his own, a ronin, as the Japanese humans call it. He knew the risks. He chose his fate."
"But why kill him? His desertion was months ago."
"I did not kill him," Jordan said. She could not tell from the shadow of his face if he was lying. He was too good a poker player. "You must ask those who performed the deed. I would see to it that they are well rewarded." He smirked. "You do not care about others. I assume he meant something to Griffen McCandles."
"I do care what became of this child!" Mai exclaimed. Jordan waved away her protest. He treated her as if she did not matter. She resented it. "Why are you here?" she repeated. "What are you doing invading poker games?"
"Do you have any authority to ask?"
"Don't you know who I am?"
"If you must ask me that, then you must know I do not care," Jordan said, with a supercilious smile her claws itched to tear off his jaws.