Tangled Threads (Page 29)

A party? That didn’t sound so bad. At least then I wouldn’t have to be alone with Owen and Eva and feel like an awkward, socially inept third wheel. Killing people was far easier than making polite chitchat.

"And you could even ask Bria, if you wanted to," Owen finished.

"Oh." I was really dazzling everyone with my conversational skills today.

Owen knew that Detective Bria Coolidge was my long-lost sister and that I desperately wanted to tell her who I really was. But, of course, that I was also afraid of what Bria might do when she found out I’d been an assassin for years and that I was the Spider, the mysterious woman who’d declared war on Mab Monroe.

"Gin?" Owen asked. "Are you still there?"

The bell over the front door chimed, indicating that I had a customer, and saving me from answering him. I hoped it was the call-in order that Sophia had taken a few minutes ago so I could close my gin joint down for the night and get on with finding Natasha.

No such luck. To my surprise and consternation, Jonah McAllister walked through the door.

Despite his sixtysomething years, Jonah McAllister was still an attractive man-if you thought that having absolutely no wrinkles or natural expression in your face was something to be desired. McAllister had his chiseled features sandblasted by expensive Air elemental facials on a regular basis in order to keep his youthful glow intact. His smooth face seemed at odds with his thick coif of silver hair, which swirled around his head and gave him an elegant, distinguished air. A perfectly fitted black suit covered his trim figure, topped by a long black wool overcoat.

But more important than his slick appearance was the fact that Jonah McAllister also happened to be Mab Monroe’s personal lawyer and the number two man in her organization now that Elliot Slater was dead. And he was very, very good at what he did. McAllister was known throughout Ashland for his ability to get the worst criminals off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Which is why he handled all of Mab’s legal affairs. Thanks to McAllister’s expertise, the Fire elemental had never been charged with anything, not even a traffic violation, much less taken to court, despite all the murders, kidnappings, and beatings that Mab had ordered over the years-or had simply rolled up her sleeves and done herself.

Jonah McAllister also happened to hate me, since he suspected me of being involved with his son, Jake’s, death a few weeks ago. That’s when Jake had come into the Pork Pit, scared and threatened my customers, and tried to rob me before I’d shown him exactly whom he was dealing with. But the punk hadn’t learned from his first mistake. During one of Mab’s parties, Jake had threatened to rape and murder me, so I’d stabbed him to death and left him in the Fire elemental’s bathtub. Needless to say, the older McAllister had been extremely upset.

Ever since then, Jonah McAllister had kept an eye on me, trying to figure out what, if anything, I knew about his son’s murder. McAllister had even had Slater and some of his giant goons attack me one night over at Ashland Community College. Of course, I hadn’t cracked under the pressure of the giants’ fists, even though they’d almost beaten me to death. But that didn’t stop McAllister from suspecting me. So far, the slick attorney had gotten exactly nowhere, but he hadn’t given up, as witnessed by his visit here tonight. No doubt he’d dropped by just to see what other kind of trouble he could make for me.

McAllister stepped to one side, holding the door open for someone coming in behind him, and I realized that the lawyer wasn’t alone. He had a woman with him, one that I recognized.

LaFleur.

Chapter 13

In the split-second it took me to register the fact that Jonah McAllister and LaFleur were here in the Pork Pit, in my restaurant, in my gin joint, all sorts of scenarios flickered through my mind. Most of them involved my killing the two of them where they stood and helping Sophia dispose of the bodies.

The Goth dwarf had helped Fletcher Lane dispose of bodies for years, and I’d inherited her services when I’d taken over the assassination business from the old man. Sophia had the same Air elemental magic as her sister, Jo-Jo. Except in Sophia’s case, she used her power to rip molecules apart, to break them down and tear them into nothingness. All of which was great for getting pesky little things like bloodstains off floors and walls.

My eyes strayed to the two couples still lingering over their food. Sophia and I couldn’t take care of McAllister and LaFleur, not in front of four witnesses. Anyway, it was better to see what the dynamic duo actually wanted first before I made my move.

"I’ve got to go," I told Owen. "I just had a customer walk in the front door."

"Anyone I know?" he asked.

"Jonah McAllister. And he has the new girl in town with him."

Silence. I’d told Owen all about LaFleur and what her plans were for me the other night when I’d been at his house.

"Do you need some help, Gin?" Owen asked in a soft voice. "I can be there in ten minutes."

And this thing might be over with in one, depending on what the two of them wanted and what they knew about me and who I really was. Still, it pleased me that Owen cared enough to come, that he wanted to help me, wanted to stick his neck out for me.

I put my left hand down under the counter out of sight and palmed one of my silverstone knives. The blade was sharp enough to cut through almost anything, including McAllister’s inflated ego-and neck.

"No, I think I can handle it. Sophia’s here now, and Finn is on his way. Four really would be a crowd," I murmured. "Besides, they’re not here to kill me. They want something instead. They wouldn’t have come in through the front door otherwise. And if they knew who I really was, they would have brought some of Mab’s giants along with them for backup, at the very least. Maybe even Mab herself, if she was in the mood to watch."

More silence.

"Will I see you tonight then?" Owen asked. "When it’s over?"

"Probably not. I have a feeling that I’m going to be busy."

Owen blew out a tense breath. "All right. Just-be careful. And call me later, okay?"

"Okay," I said and hung up.

Jonah McAllister’s brown eyes flicked over the store-front, and his lip curled up into a faint sneer, the way it always did when he came in here. With its simple, blue and pink vinyl booths, the Pork Pit wasn’t exactly the expensive, elegant, highfalutin joint McAllister was used to dining in. I doubted that he ever went anywhere where the floor was covered with pig tracks done in peeling blue and pink paint, respectively, that led to the men’s and women’s restrooms.

Still, the lawyer carefully examined everything before his eyes slid to me standing behind the cash register, which sat on top of a long counter running down the back wall. To my left, a bloody framed copy of Where the Red Fern Grows decorated the wall, along with a picture of Fletcher Lane in his younger years. Both were mementoes of Fletcher that I kept in his restaurant as a tribute to the old man.