Deadly Sting (32 page)

“How is Phillip?”

Owen shook his head. “Complaining like usual, even though Jo-Jo fully healed him at the museum. Eva’s been on the boat all week, staying right by his side.”

I arched an eyebrow. “And what are you going to do about that?”

He sighed. “I haven’t decided yet. Got any ideas?”

“Is Eva too old to send to a convent?”

Owen laughed—the first genuine laugh I’d heard from him in weeks. He grinned at me, and for a moment, everything was perfect, and I felt like we were the Gin and Owen of old.

His laughter and his smile slowly faded away, the way these things always do. But the warmth lingered in his eyes, and there wasn’t as much tension between us as there had been before.

He nodded at me once, then turned and left the restaurant.

I stayed where I was, reached out, and picked up the box. I hefted it, and it felt surprisingly light in my hand. Probably not a weapon after all.

I put the box back down on the table and slowly cracked open the top. A surprised gasp escaped my lips.

My mother’s and sister’s rune necklaces lay inside the box, Eira’s snowflake and Annabella’s curling ivy vine.

Sunlight slanted across the table, making the silverstone runes gleam. Both necklaces looked absolutely perfect, as though they’d just been made a moment before. Even the chains looked brand-new, as though they and the runes had never even been touched, even though my mother and my sister had worn them every single day, just like Bria did her primrose necklace and I did my spider rune ring. All the black, ashy, sooty remains of Mab’s elemental Fire had been scrubbed off the runes, making them bright, shiny, and clean.

“How—when—” Words failed me, even though I was only sputtering to myself.

I hadn’t told anyone about seeing the rune necklaces at the Briartop, because I hadn’t thought there was a chance that I could somehow find them. I hadn’t wanted to get Bria’s or even my own hopes up, so I’d kept quiet, although I had asked Finn to get me a list of all the items from Mab’s exhibit that had been recovered. But the necklaces hadn’t been on it, so I’d figured that someone had swiped them in the confusion and chaos.

I’d never thought that someone would turn out to be Owen.

My head snapped up, searching for him, wondering if I could run out the door, catch him, and tell him how much the runes meant to me.

But I didn’t have to, because he was standing right outside, watching me through the window. We stared at each other for a moment.

“Thank you,” I finally mouthed.

I pressed my palm against the window, and I let him see the hope in my eyes—my hope for us. Owen smiled for a moment, and I saw the answering warmth in his gaze. He leaned over and pressed his hand to mine, even though the glass separated us.

We stayed like that for the better part of a minute, staring at each other, before Owen slowly drew his fingers away. He winked at me, then stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled away. A second later, he was gone.

But for the first time, it didn’t feel like I was losing him—it almost felt like he’d left part of himself behind with me.

It wasn’t the reunion I’d hoped for, but it was a start. Like Bria said, we had to start somewhere, even if our end destination seemed impossibly far away.

I sat there in the booth, my heart lighter and more hopeful than it had been in weeks. Owen and I weren’t back together, but I felt like we’d at least turned a corner. That maybe there was a chance for us after all.

I stared at the pendants. Maybe it was my imagination, but for a moment, they seemed to gleam even brighter than before, as if the metal shared my hopeful thoughts. I reached out and traced over the runes with my finger, just as I’d done countless times before as a child. Owen had found them and brought them back to me. I couldn’t quite believe it. That the runes were whole and with me once again. He’d given me such a lovely, thoughtful gift, such an important gift. Despite everything that had passed between us, my heart swelled with love for him—and also with hope for our future.

Smiling, I grabbed the runes, slid out of the booth, and went over to the counter to show Bria the gift that Owen had given to both of us.

One of friendship, family—and love.

Turn the page for a sneak peek at the next book in the Elemental Assassin series

HEART OF VENOM

by Jennifer Estep

Coming soon from Pocket Books

1

“What do you mean, I can’t come?”

I jerked my head down at the heavy weight swinging between us. “Do you really want to talk about this right now?”

“I can’t
think
of a better time,” he replied, then dropped his half of the load onto the ground.

I let go of my half of the weight, put my hands on my hips, and rolled my eyes at the whiny, petulant tone in my foster brother’s voice. “You can’t come because it’s a girls’ day at the salon. No guys allowed. That includes you.”

Finnegan Lane sniffed, straightened up to his full height, and carefully adjusted the expensive silk tie knotted around his neck. “Yes, but I am not just
any
guy.”

More eye rolling on my part, but Finn ignored me. His ego was pretty much bulletproof, and my derisive looks wouldn’t so much as scratch his own highfalutin opinion of himself.

“Besides,” he continued, “I’d get more enjoyment out of a spa day than you would.”

“True,” I agreed. “I don’t particularly care how shiny my nails are or how well conditioned my hair is.”

Finn held out his manicured nails, studying them with a critical eye, before reaching up and gently patting his coif of walnut-colored hair. “My nails are good, but I could use a trim. Wouldn’t want to get any split ends.”

“Oh no,” I muttered. “We wouldn’t want such a horror as
that
.”

With his artfully styled hair, designer suit, and glossy wing tips, Finn looked like he’d just stepped out of the pages of some high-end fashion magazine. Add his intense green eyes, chiseled features, and toned, muscled body to that, and he was as handsome as any movie star. The only thing that ruined his sleek, polished look was the blood spattered all over his white shirt and gray suit jacket—and the body lying at our feet.

“Come on,” I said. “This guy isn’t getting any lighter.”

The two of us were standing in the alley behind the Pork Pit, the barbecue restaurant that I ran in downtown Ashland. A series of old, battered metal Dumpsters crouched on either side of the restaurant’s back door, all reeking of cumin, cayenne, black pepper, and the other spices that I cooked with, along with all of the food scraps and other garbage that had spoiled out here in the July heat. A breeze whistled in between the backs of the buildings, bringing some temporary relief from the sticky humidity and making several crumpled-up white paper bags bearing the Pork Pit’s pig logo skip down the oil-slicked surface of the alley.

I ignored the low, scraping, skittering noises of the bags and concentrated on the sound of the stones around me.

People’s actions, thoughts, and feelings last longer and have more of an impact than most folks realize, since all of those actions and feelings resonate with emotional vibrations that especially sink into the stone around them. As a Stone elemental, my magic let me hear and interpret all of the whispers of the element around me, whether it was a jackhammer brutally punching through a concrete foundation, weather slowly wearing away at a tombstone, or the collective frets of harried commuters scurrying into an office building every day on their way to work, hoping that their bosses wouldn’t yell at them for being late again.

Behind me, the brick wall of the Pork Pit let out low, sluggish, contented sighs, much the way the diners inside did after finishing a hot, greasy barbecue sandwich, baked beans, and all of the other southern treats that I served up on a daily basis. A few sharp notes of violence trilled here and there in the brick, but they were as familiar to me as the sighs were, and I wasn’t concerned by them. This wasn’t the first person I’d killed inside the restaurant, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Come on,” I repeated. “We’ve had our body-moving break. You grab his shoulders again, and I’ll get his feet. I want to get this guy into that Dumpster in the next alley over before someone sees us.”

“Dumpster? You mean the refrigerated cooler that Sophia hauled in just so you could keep bodies on ice close to the restaurant with at least a
modicum
of plausible deniability,” Finn corrected me.

I shrugged. “It was her idea, not mine. But since she’s the one who gets rid of most of the bodies, it was her call.”

“And why isn’t Sophia here tonight to help us with this guy?”

I shrugged again. “Because there was some James Bond film festival that she wanted to go to, so she took the night off. Now, come on. Enough stalling. Let’s go.”

“Why do I have to grab his shoulders?” Finn whined again. “That’s where all the blood is.”

I eyed his ruined jacket and shirt. “At this point, I don’t think it much matters, do you?”

Finn glanced down at the smears of red on his chest. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.”

He grumbled and let out a few put-upon sighs, but he eventually leaned down and took hold of the dead guy’s shoulders, while I grabbed his ankles. So far, we’d moved the guy from the front of the Pork Pit, through the rear of the restaurant, and outside. This time, we slowly shuffled away from the back door of the Pit and down the alley.

Finn and I had moved bodies before, but the fact that this dead guy was a seven-foot-tall giant with a strong, muscled figure made him a little heavier than most, and we stopped at the end of the alley to take another break. I wiped the sweat off my forehead and stared down at the dead guy.

Half an hour ago, the giant had been sitting in a booth in the restaurant, chowing down on a double bacon cheeseburger, sweet-potato fries, and a big piece of apple pie and talking to the friend he’d brought along. The two giants had been my last customers, and I’d been waiting for them to leave before I closed the restaurant for the night. The first guy had paid his bill and left without incident, but the second one had swaggered over to the cash register and handed me a fistful of one-dollar bills. I’d counted the bills, and the second my eyes dropped to the cash register, the giant had taken a swing at me with his massive fist.

Please. As if no one had ever tried that trick before.

But such were the job hazards of an assassin. Yep, me, Gin Blanco. Restaurant owner by day. Notorious assassin the Spider by night. Well, actually, it was more like I was the Spider all the time now. Ever since I’d killed Mab Monroe, the powerful Fire elemental who’d owned a good chunk of the crime in Ashland, everyone who was anyone in the underworld had been gunning for me. I was a wild card in the city’s power structure, and lots of folks thought that arranging my murder would prove their mettle to everyone else. Tonight’s giant was just the latest in a long line of folks who’d eaten in my restaurant with the intention of murdering me as soon as they’d sopped up the last bit of barbecue sauce on their plates.

Since Finn had been sitting on a stool close to the cash register, he’d pulled a gun out from underneath his suit jacket and tried to put a couple of bullets into the giant, but the giant had slapped Finn’s gun away. The two of them had been grappling when I’d come around the counter, palmed one of my silverstone knives, and repeatedly, brutally punched the blade into the giant’s back, side, and chest until he was dead. Hence the blood that had spattered all over Finn—and me, too, although my long-sleeved black T-shirt and dark jeans hid most of the stains.

“All right,” Finn said. “Let’s lug this guy the rest of the way. I need to go home and get cleaned up before my date with Bria tonight.”

I’d just started to bend down and take hold of the giant’s ankles again when a mutter of unease rippled through the stone wall beside me—a dark whisper full of malicious intent.

I stopped and scanned the alley in front of us. Sophia’s rusty cooler stood at the far end, although several more Dumpsters and smaller trash cans crouched in between like tin soldiers lined up against the walls. It was after nine now, and what little lavender twilight remained was quickly being swallowed up by the shadows creeping up the walls. Another breeze whistled down the alley, bringing the scents of cooked cabbage, grilled chicken, and spicy peanut sauce with it, since a Thai restaurant was among the businesses on this particular block.

Finn noticed my hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

I kept scanning the shadows. “I think we have company.”

He adjusted his tie again, but his eyes were flicking left and right just like mine were. “Any clue to who it might be?”

I shrugged. “Probably the guy who was eating with our dead friend earlier.”

Finn shook his head. “But that guy left before the giant attacked you. Even if they were partners, once he saw what happened to his buddy, the second guy would have hightailed it out of here as fast as he could, if he had even the smallest
shred
of common sense—”

A bit of silver stuck out from behind a Dumpster off to my right. I immediately lunged forward and threw my body on top of Finn’s, forcing us both to the ground.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The bullets sailed over our heads, but I still reached for my Stone magic and used it to harden my skin into an impenetrable shell. I also tried to cover as much of Finn’s body as I could with my own. I might be bulletproof when I used my magic, but he wasn’t.

Footsteps scuffled in the alley behind me, indicating that our attacker felt bold and confident enough to move toward us. Then—

Crack! Crack! Crack!

More bullets zipped down the alley. The guy must have adjusted his aim, because I felt all three of the projectiles punch against my back before rattling away in the semidarkness. One of the bullets would have blasted out through my heart, killing me and maybe Finn too, if I hadn’t been using my Stone power to protect both of us. My body jerked with the impact of the bullets; then I let my limbs go absolutely slack and still as I sprawled over Finn, as though I were as dead as the giant lying next to us.

I looked at Finn, who gave me a saucy wink, telling me that he was okay. I felt his hand reach up, then drop from my waist, taking a light, thin weight with it. Finn brought his hand back up, and I wrapped my fingers around his. He pulled his hand away, leaving me holding the knife he’d grabbed from against the small of my back. I slid the knife partially up my sleeve, hiding the blade from sight, then closed my eyes and waited—just waited—for my enemy to come close enough.

More footsteps scuffed in the alley, followed by the harsh, raspy sound of someone breathing in through his mouth. I opened my eyes just a crack. A pair of mud-covered boots were planted right next to my face. As I watched, one of the boots drew back, and I knew what was coming next.

Sure enough, a second later, the giant’s boot slammed into my ribs.

Despite the fact that I was holding on to my Stone magic, the blow still hurt, like getting beaned in the chest with a fastball, but I kept my body loose and floppy as though I couldn’t feel it at all.

But the force of the blow knocked me partially off Finn, who grunted as my elbow dug into his shoulder.

Silence. Then—

“Open your eyes, pretty boy, or I’ll put a bullet through your skull,” the guy threatened.

Finn sighed, and I saw him open his eyes and slowly hold his hands up. “All right, all right, you got me. I’m still alive.”

“I don’t care about you,” the giant snapped. “Is she dead? Or is she faking?”

“Of course she’s dead,” Finn snapped back, holding his hands out so the giant could get a better look at the bloody smears on his clothes. “Do you not see the blood all over the two of us? I’m lucky the bullets stopped in her instead of going on through and into me.” He shuddered. “And now I think I’m going to be sick. So can you please just roll her off me or something? I can’t
stand
the sight of blood.”

If it wouldn’t have given me away, I would have snorted. Finn didn’t have any more problem with blood than I did. He just didn’t like it being splattered all over one of his precious Fiona Fine designer suits.

“But you’re her partner,” the giant said. “Everyone knows that. Shouldn’t you be, you know, more upset that she’s dead?”

“Actually, I’m more like her henchman,” Finn corrected. “As for being upset that she’s dead, well, she’s not exactly the kind of woman you say no to, if you know what I mean. Trust me. I’m happy that she’s gone. Thrilled. Ecstatic, even.”