Venom (Page 50)

Bria gave me another hard stare. "If Roslyn Phillips is your friend, if you care about her at all, you’ll tell her what I said."

"Sure," I replied. "If I see her."

Bria’s lips flattened into a thin smile. "Sure. If you see her."

"Now, if you’ll please excuse us, detective, Owen and I were just leaving."

Bria stared at me a moment longer, then stepped to one side. "Enjoy the rest of your evening, Ms. Blanco."

"You too, detective," I murmured. "You too."

Thirty minutes later, Owen Grayson pulled his navy blue Mercedes Benz to a stop in the driveway that ringed his mansion. I stared out the window at the building before me. Like most wealthy Ashland businessmen, Owen lived on a sprawling estate, although he was out more in the suburbs than truly being entrenched in the glorified confines of Northtown.

Owen’s place also wasn’t quite as pretentious as I’d thought it would be. The mansion boasted a simple, sturdy facade of only four stories instead of the usual eight or so the rest of the city’s power players preferred. I opened my door, got out of the car, and stood in the driveway a moment, listening to the whispers of the gray cobblestones under my feet and the larger rocks of the mansion above my head. The soft murmurs spoke of pride and power, tempered with wary caution. The sound fit with what I knew of Owen Grayson. Wealthy, strong, cautious. I rather liked it.

Owen walked past me toward the front door. I followed him. He dug his keys out of his pants pocket, and I eyed the knocker mounted on the front door-a large hammer done in hard, black iron, just like the enormous gate that ringed the house and grounds.

Most magic users in Ashland used some sort of rune to identify themselves, their family, their power, or even their business. Jo-Jo Deveraux, for example, used a puffy cloud to identify herself as an Air elemental. From previous encounters, I knew that the hammer was Owen Grayson’s personal and business rune. The symbol for strength, power, and hard work. A curious choice for a rune. Most people of Owen’s wealth and stature would have gone with something flashier, like Mab Monroe with her ruby and gold sunburst necklace.

Owen opened the door and stepped to one side. "Welcome to my parlor."

"Said the spider to the fly," I finished the old saying.

For a moment, I wondered how Owen would react if he knew that I was the Spider and that he was the poor fly caught in my sticky web. I pushed the thought away and headed inside.

Owen led me through the interior of his mansion. He didn’t speak as we walked, and I used the silence to examine my surroundings. One, for practical reasons. I still hadn’t decided what to do about Owen and everything that he’d seen and heard tonight. So I made note of the passageways and potential exits, just in case I had to kill him and leave in a hurry. But I also studied the interior to learn what I could about the mysterious businessman.

Fletcher Lane had instilled a healthy dose of curiosity in me, and Owen Grayson’s behavior over the past few weeks had only deepened my desire to know even more about him-and if he might be suitable enough to help me start forgetting about Donovan Caine. I liked recreational sex as much as the next gal, but it always helped if my bed partner was someone I wanted to stick around after the fireworks ended.

Just like the exterior of the house, the furnishings were much simpler than I’d expected. Dark, heavy, sturdy woods, thick rugs in cool blues and greens, lots of interesting iron sculptures. I got the sense everything was picked more out of love for the object itself, rather than an inflated desire to be sophisticated and stylish.

Owen led me to a downstairs living room, dominated by an enormous flat-screen television on one wall. Eva Grayson and Violet Fox sat in the middle of an oversize sectional sofa in front of the television, watching The Princess Bride and eating a large tub of popcorn. The smell of butter and salt drifted up to me.

The two college girls were best friends-and about as different as different could be. With her black hair, blue eyes, porcelain skin, and tall, lithe figure, Eva always reminded me of a real-life version of Snow White. Violet, on the other hand, was short and curvy, with a mop of frizzy blond hair, black glasses, and bronze skin that hinted at her Cherokee heritage. Both girls sported soft, fuzzy pajamas, apparently in for the evening.

Owen leaned over the back of the sofa and ruffled Eva’s hair.

"Are you watching that again?" he said, his voice light and teasing. "If I’d known you were going to make Violet watch it every time you girls had a movie night, I would have bought you something else."

"It’s not my fault you have no taste in movies," Eva teased back.

I stood off to one side and watched them. Their good-natured squabbling reminded me of my own relationship with Finn. And the sort of easy camaraderie that I longed to have with Bria someday.

But then Eva spotted me lurking in the shadows. "Gin? Is that you?"

I stepped forward. "In the flesh."

"Gin, it’s so good to see you!" Eva got up on her knees, leaned over the back of the sofa, and hugged me.

"It really is," Violet echoed.

Violet put down the popcorn and also got up on her knees and hugged me. I accepted the girls’ greetings. Eva had considered me a friend ever since I’d saved her from being fricasseed by Jake McAllister when the Fire elemental had tried to rob the Pork Pit a few weeks ago.

Violet also considered me a friend but for another reason-I’d killed Tobias Dawson, the dwarf who’d sent his brother to rape and murder her when her grandfather, Warren, wouldn’t sell his land to Dawson. Doing pro bono work had some perks. Saving Eva and Violet from getting dead had been two of them.

Once we got the hugs out of the way, the two girls sat back down on the sofa.

Eva gave me a critical once-over. "You look smoking hot tonight, Gin. I didn’t know you were Owen’s date for that boring riverboat thing."

I looked at Owen. "Oh, it was sort of a last-minute arrangement."

His lips twitched. "Very last minute."

"Well, it’s about time you went out with my big brother," Eva said. "Even if he wouldn’t know a good movie from a hole in his head."

I laughed. "I’m glad you approve, Eva. How come you’re not out on the town this evening?"

Violet answered me. "Finals are over, and we decided to veg out."

"Totally," Eva agreed.

I nodded at the screen. "With The Princess Bride, I see. A classic. I approve."

I chatted with Violet and Eva a few minutes, asking them about their classes and finals, before Owen finally cleared his throat.

"Sorry, girls, but Gin and I need to talk." He mussed Eva’s hair again. "Don’t stay up too late."