Along Came a Spider (33 page)

“Your guy is a jeweler?” I asked.

Nicky chuckled. “That’s just his front. You’ll see.”

The shop was small and cozy, but the glass display cases were filled with a stunning collection of baubles that made my eyes go wide. Even with my decent FMA salary, I couldn’t imagine there was anything in the store that fell within my budget. The people who shopped there were the elite of Chicago.

“Well, smack my ass!”

I turned toward the voice and blinked at the Tale behind the counter. He was movie star handsome, his golden brown hair falling in carefully styled, perfectly highlighted waves around his beautiful face. He came out from around the counter, moving with surprising grace. His silk shirt looked custom made, and, considering the way his slacks hugged his athletic build, they most likely were as well. The man’s warm blue eyes took us in at a glance and a slow smile curved his lips.

“Hel-lo, gorgeous!”

“Um . . . hi,” I stammered, glancing at Nicky, a little taken off guard by the enthusiastic compliment.

The man flashed a smooth, swoon-worthy grin. “Well, you are an adorable little dish, sweetie,” he said, “but I was actually talking to Nicky. How the hell are you, you tasty hunk of man?”

Oh. Got it.

My face flooded with warmth at my gaffe.

Nicky just chuckled and shook the man’s hand. “I’m hangin’ in there, my friend. How’s business?”

The man rolled his eyes and sagged, exaggerating each motion. “Oh, honey—I am so over Valentine’s Day! No one has any imagination these days. Hearts and diamonds—how appallingly passé!”

“You said it, girlfriend,” piped up a tall, slender man whose neon pink silk button-down was a striking contrast to his java skin. He leaned across the counter and gave Nicky a flirty grin. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Little Boy Blue. Did you finally decide to come blow my horn?”

“Stop being such a man-whore,” Nicky’s friend scolded. “You know Nicky doesn’t play that way.”

The man sighed dramatically. “A boy can dream.”

“Hey, Truman,” Nicky chuckled, jerking his chin in greeting. “How’s it hangin’?”

“To the left, honey, always to the left,” he said with a wink.

“Nicky, are you going to introduce us to your lovely companion?” the man before me prompted.

Nicky’s hand pressed the small of my back, sending a little jolt of happiness through me. “Trish Muffet, this is Ulrich Rumpelstiltskin and his partner, Truman. They’re friends of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Rumpelstiltskin,” I said, extending my hand.

“Just call me Rick,” he gushed, shaking my hand in both of his. “And I should’ve known who you were by the ringlets. I’ve heard all about you, sweetie!”

“Well, I haven’t,” Truman grumped, coming out from behind the counter to shake my hand as well. He tottered a little in his neon pink platform sandals—or it might’ve been the skin-tight hot pants. Tough call. “Nobody ever tells me anything. And by nobody, I mean Ulrich. He’s such a power-tripping bitch kitty.”

“I know one queen who needs to hold the drama,” Rick drawled, rolling his eyes. “Don’t mind Truman, Trish. He’s getting his period. Now, what brings you by?” Rick gave Nicky a sly look. “Are we ring shopping?”

Nicky’s cheeks went a little red, and he sent a quick glance my way. “No, no. Nothing like that. I, uh, I need a favor.”

Rick’s blue eyes widened with interest. “Oh, I like the sound of this already.” He grabbed my hands in his and said in a stage whisper, “Did you know I’ve been waiting to do Nicky a favor since he helped clear me of the kidnapping charge?”

“Kidnapping charge?” I echoed.

“Yes! Can you believe it? You try to take one baby in Make Believe and suddenly you’re the FMA’s prime suspect every time a kid goes missing. Puh-lease! As if I would’ve taken that Lindbergh baby!”

“The Lindbergh baby?” I gaped. “You were a suspect in the Lindbergh baby case?”

“Only for a few days,” Rick assured me. “I mean, seriously? He was an Ordinary! What would I have done with an Ordinary child? Such a sad affair, too. Just heartbreaking. Luckily, Nicky knew it wasn’t me and pulled a few strings to get everything cleared up.”

“So, what happened in Make Believe?” I asked, familiar with Rumpel—Rick’s story but knowing, like so many other Tales, stories had a way of being only partially true.

Truman made a whimpering noise and made his way back behind the jewelry counter where Rick joined him, draping his arm around Truman’s shoulders and giving him a comforting squeeze. “Just because Truman and I can’t have a baby of our own doesn’t mean we don’t want to be fathers,” Rick explained. “So, I made a deal with that stupid girl that I’d make her a queen, but you can see what a little jackass her son turned out to be!”

“She never even paid attention to little James,” Truman sighed, shaking his head.

“James?” I said, frowning. “James Charming?”

Rick sighed. “One and the same.”

“He would’ve been a hell of a lot better off with us,” Truman assured me, patting Rick’s hand.

“And he definitely would’ve had better taste in fashion,” Rick added, appalled.

“Oh, you know that’s right,” Truman said, snapping his fingers with a flourish.

“Did you see what he was wearing during his trial for fraud?” Rick asked me, clearly horrified. “Oh, honey, it was a pale blue catastrophe. Whoever let him dress himself should be convicted of being an accessory to a crime.”

I giggled, and now it was my turn to lean in, anxious to share more gossip with the two imps. “You think that was bad,” I whispered, “you should’ve seen him the night Lavender Seelie accidentally burned down the Charmings’ mansion last fall.” When they huddled up with me, I broke the news. “Gold lamé bikini briefs with a smoking jacket.”

Truman gasped. “Oh, girl, he did not!”

I nodded. “And that’s not all—”

Nicky cut me off by taking my hand and pulling me to him. “I’ll let you gossip all you want later,” he said with an amused grin, “but right now I need to chat with Rick about that favor I mentioned.”

Rick gave me a wink. “Back to business, I guess,” he said, grimacing comically. “Come on up to the office, you two. Truman, mind the store.”

“Oh, I mind, trust me,” Truman called as we followed Rick to a set of stairs.

“Don’t be a bitch, honey,” Rick called over his shoulder. “It gives you frown lines.”

The second-floor was more an upscale loft apartment than an office and boasted a modern art collection that I guessed was worth millions of dollars. “The jewelry business must be treating you well,” Nicky said, his thoughts apparently in synch with my own.

Rick waved his words away. “Puh-lease! The jewelry business is a hobby. Who needs money when I can spin straw into gold? Do you have any idea what gold’s going for per ounce these days?”

“So that part of your story is true?” I asked. “You can really spin straw into gold?”

Rick shrugged as he eased down onto a plush white sofa. “Straw, leaves, grass . . . take your pick, sweetie.” To demonstrate, he picked up a flower in the vase on the glass table beside him and popped off the bud, then ran his fingertips down the stem, creating a delicate white gold chain.

“That’s gorgeous!” I told him.

Nicky shook his head in dismay. “Haven’t lost your touch, Rick.”

“Oh, I’m not finished yet,” Rick told him. He then picked up the flower and removed each of the petals, which he twisted and bent, fusing them together in an intricate design. Finally, he created a little loop and slid the pendant down the chain. When he finished, he held it aloft before my eyes. “What do you think?”

To my astonishment, it was an exact replica of Nicky’s spider tattoo. My eyes went wide. “How did you . . . ?” My words trailed off. His talent was beyond anything I’d ever seen.

Rick grinned. “A gift for you, sweetie.” But instead of giving it to me, he handed it to Nicky. “Care to do the honors?”

Nicky turned to me and fastened the necklace around my throat, his fingers tracing the delicate chain down its path to where the pendant rested at the V of my sweater just above my cleavage. “Beautiful,” he murmured, a hungry look coming into his eyes. He took my face in his hands and brushed a tender kiss to my mouth. Then he pressed his forehead to mine, closing his eyes for a moment.

When a polite cough reminded us that we weren’t alone, Nicky chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders and drawing me against him. “I sometimes forget that there’s anyone else in the world but this gal right here.”

Rick gave us an understanding smile. “Well, I can certainly see that.”

Nicky and I sat down on a love seat across from the sofa, our knees touching. His hand rested lightly on my thigh, his thumb smoothing over the denim of my jeans, but even as he did that, he went into business mode.

“I need to know where the Agency is holing up at the moment,” he announced, getting right down to it.

Rick scoffed. “Why the hell would you want to find those assholes?”

“You sound like you know the Agency pretty well,” I observed.

Rick made a sour face. “Let’s just say that peasant girls aspiring to be queens aren’t the only ones who find my talents valuable. Whenever the Agency needs a little gold for their coffers, who do you think they call on? And they don’t like to take no for an answer.”

“Does Al know about this?” I asked, finding it hard to believe the Director of the FMA would allow one of us Tales to be pressed into service that way, forced to use his talent to line the Agency’s pocket.

Rick shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve filed complaints with the FMA over the years, but they never seem to get anywhere. I doubt they’ve ever crossed Al Addin’s desk. I mean, who am I? Just an imp accused of stealing children once upon a time. Who’s going to give a shit about me?”

“I do,” I told him. “You’d better believe I’m going to make sure Al knows about what’s going on.”

“So how does it work?” Nicky asked. “When the Agency comes to make you spin gold for them.”

“Oh, they take me to wherever they happen to have set up shop here in Chicago, honey,” Rick explained. “Of course, I’m blindfolded—or drugged. I told them I prefer the blindfold. Otherwise I wake up with one hell of a headache and the gold looks like shit.”

Nicky sighed, his disappointment evident. “So there’s no way for you to tell us where their office is.”

Rick offered us a saucy smile. “Well, I didn’t say that. Of course, I can find it! I’m an imp, honey. I’ve been pranking them as payback for ages! They’ve replaced their sprinkler system three times in the last six months because it just keeps malfunctioning.” He batted his lashes innocently, then sent a conspiratorial wink my way. “But you can’t just waltz in the front door looking all hot and alpha male, Nicky. They actually have pretty good security for Ordinaries.”

“Just tell me where it is,” Nicky told him. “And let me worry about how to get in.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

As we made our way home along the wooded, winding road that led to Nicky’s, my fingers rested lightly on the pendant against my chest as I studied his profile. My heart swelled with such love at that moment, I wasn’t even sure I could put it into words. I love you felt woefully inadequate. It didn’t even come close. His lips curved a little as he drove and he sent a sidelong glance my way.

“What’s doin’, doll?” he asked. “You’ve been lookin’ at me that way for a while now.”

“I can’t believe I’m sitting here with you,” I confessed. “I can’t believe what we’ve shared over the last few days. I never dared to hope. . . .” I flushed and turned my face toward my window, staring out at the dark woods that lined the streets leading to his house. “I don’t want you to go, Nicky.”

I heard him heave a sharp sigh. “I can’t stay here, Trish,” he told me after a moment. “You know that. I need to get outta here, start over somewhere else.”

“And nothing could make you stay?” I asked, my voice catching as I turned to face him again. “Nothing at all?”

Not even me?

He shifted a little in his seat. “What if you came with me?”

I frowned. “What, like on vacation?”

He chuckled. “No, not on vacation.” He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable. “Like, you know, for good.”

My breath caught in my chest and for a moment I could only stare at him, wondering if I could’ve possibly heard him right. “Are you asking me . . .” I let my words trail off. I swallowed hard and tried again. “What exactly are you asking me?”

His grin widened and he turned his attention from the road to peg me with a look so full of love, my heart leaped with joy. Then the headlights behind him framed his head, creating a halo of light that seemed to grow in slow motion. I must’ve realized in a split second what was happening, but when I screamed Nicky’s name, the word took too long to come out, and I saw him whip his head around just as the car rammed into his door.