Being an investment banker, con artist, and all-around swindler, Finn had far higher standards than most of the crooks in Ashland—and a much bigger ego. He preferred to rob his clients while wining and dining them rather than holding them up at gunpoint. He was rather fussy that way. His twisted version of snobbery was one of the odd quirks that I loved about my foster brother, although I’d never admit it to him.
Finn also excelled at digging into people and finding out every little thing about them, from where they got their teeth cleaned to how much money they had stashed in their safety deposit box to how many bodies they had buried in their backyards. After Bria had told us when and where she was supposed to meet Lincoln Jenkins, I’d had Finn dig up all the info that he could on the small-time crook.
And, keeping my newfound promise to Owen, I’d called my lover as well and told him that I was backing up Bria tonight. The conversation between us had been stilted and awkward, but Owen had seemed relieved that I didn’t have my sights set on Mab again. At least not for tonight. I didn’t tell him that I hadn’t given up on my plan to kill the Fire elemental. There was no need. Owen knew how badly I wanted her dead, how much I needed her dead to keep everyone that I loved safe—
“Jenkins is late,” Finn said, cutting into my thoughts. “Ten minutes late, to be exact.”
“He’s a thief,” Roslyn answered. “He probably hocked whatever watch he stole.”
Finn snorted his agreement. “Maybe. But if he was so excited and the information that he had was so big, you’d think that he’d be early. Waiting at the bar, smoking a cigarette, drinking a beer, whatever, wanting to get things over with. Instead, he’s a no-show, so far at least. Which looks like it’s seriously pissing off sweet, sweet Bria.”
Sure enough, Bria seemed impatient, tapping her hand on the Ice bar, turning the silverstone rings around on her finger, and continually scanning the crowd—all the obvious signs of a woman being stood up and getting angry about it. Then Bria’s hand stilled, and she frowned before reaching down and pulling her cell phone out of her jacket. She held the phone up to her ear, sticking her finger in her opposite one so she could hear the person on the other end. She said a few words, then hung up. Bria didn’t look in our direction; she was too smart for that, but a moment later, Finn’s cell phone lit up.
He peered at the text message on the screen. “Bria says that Jenkins just called her. He wants to meet outside in the west parking lot. She’s going to meet him right now.”
This time I frowned. Why would a small-time hood like Jenkins want to meet outside on a night as cold as this one? There was more than enough of a crowd to get lost in, here in the nightclub, where it was nice and warm with lots of booze to consume and eye candy to lust after. I was starting to get a bad, bad feeling about this. Finn looked at me and nodded. He was having the same nagging doubts that I was.
“Roslyn, it’s been a pleasure as always, but duty calls,” I said, sliding out of the booth and getting to my feet. “If you don’t mind, tell Xavier what’s up, okay?”
“You need some help?” Roslyn asked, concern tightening her beautiful features as she got to her feet as well.
I shook my head. “Nah. If Finn and I can’t handle a simple lowlife like Jenkins and whatever tricks he might have tucked up his crooked sleeves, then it’s time for us to find another line of work.”
Bria stood up, paid her tab, and headed for the front door. Instead of following her, Finn and I walked behind Roslyn, who opened a door set into the back wall of the club. The vampire madam led us through a series of narrow hallways that made up the outer wall of Northern Aggression—a hollow shell of space that wrapped all the way around the building. The passageways gave Roslyn, her hookers, and the giant bouncers who watched out for them peepholes and access to every part of the building without having to fight their way through the crowd. I’d taken advantage of them as well a few months back when I’d been stalking the people responsible for Fletcher’s murder.
Roslyn led us to the back side of the building and opened a door for us. The February cold stung my face, but I welcomed the chill after the overbearing heat of the club. Beside me, Finn shivered and tucked his chin down deeper into his jacket.
Roslyn pointed to the left. “If they’re meeting in the west lot, there are a couple of Dumpsters you can hide behind. There’s some cracked, broken pavement that needs to be fixed, so we moved the bins over there to keep folks from driving across it and blowing out their tires.”
I nodded. “Thanks, Roslyn. For everything.”
She nodded back. “I’ll go get Xavier,” the vampire said and disappeared inside.
Finn and I stayed where we were, both of us reaching into our coat pockets and pulling out black ski masks. Before I’d retired, I’d never worn a mask while working as the Spider. I didn’t need to—none of the people who saw my face were ever around to talk about it after the fact. But ever since I’d declared war on Mab, I’d taken to sporting a mask during my nocturnal activities. It was one more little thing that I did to protect my true identity as Gin Blanco—and the lives of everyone I cared about. If Mab found out who I was, the Fire elemental wouldn’t be content just hunting me down. She’d kill everyone she could get her hands on who might be close to me. Finn, Bria, the Deveraux sisters, Owen, even Roslyn and Xavier. I might be rather cavalier about my own life, but I wasn’t risking the others like that.
Once I pulled the mask down over my face, I turned to stare at Finn. “You ready to do this?”
“Just like Bonnie and Clyde.” He grinned, his teeth a gleaming white against the black fabric. “Although let’s try not to get shot to pieces tonight, okay? This coat is imported leather.”
I snorted, and the two of us moved off into the darkness.
The Dumpsters were crouched at the edge of the west parking lot, just where Roslyn had said they would be. Finn and I slipped behind the metal containers. The stench of sour beer, fried food, and vomit hung over the area like retched fog. I started breathing in through my mouth, even though the cold air burned my throat and lungs. That was still far preferable to the frontal assault on my nose.
“You know, Gin, this would be a perfect place for an ambush,” Finn murmured.
He was right. The Dumpsters cordoned this area off from the rest of Northern Aggression, and the parking lot in front of us was deserted. Someone had made an effort to clear away the snow, letting me see several deep, jagged cracks that zigzagged through the pavement. A cluster of snow-covered trees butted up against the far side of the lot. Next to them, a flat piece of land stretched out parallel to the ice-crusted street beyond. Two SUVs were parked out there off to the right. Their owners must have driven them to the club tonight because the tinted windows were clean and defrosted. The music of the club pulsed out here, but the thumping beat was softer than it had been inside. Still, it was more than loud enough to soak up a scream or two.
The bad feeling in my stomach arched up, gaining force, and I palmed one of my silverstone knives.
Footsteps sounded, along with the rustle of clothing, and Bria rounded the building and came into view, heading toward the parking lot. She looked left and right, scanning the scene just as Finn and I had. Bria didn’t like what she saw any better. Her mouth flattened into a hard line, and her hand slid into the pocket of her jacket, probably curling around the gun that she had tucked away in there.
From our position behind the Dumpsters, Bria couldn’t see us, but she would know that we were here somewhere, ready to back her up. She strolled to the center of the lot and stopped, peering into the gray shadows cast by the ice-crusted trees.
“Lincoln?” she called out. “Are you here?”
No answer.
Bria looked and listened, but nothing moved in the cold night, and only the steady thump-thump-thump of the nightclub’s music interrupted the frosty silence.
While we waited for Lincoln Jenkins to show, Finn trained his gaze on Bria, just as he’d been doing inside N
orthern Aggression. Supposedly, my foster brother had been keeping a watch out for anyone suspicious, anyone who might have an unhealthy interest in Bria or her source, just as Roslyn and I had been doing. But his eyes had rarely left Bria’s face inside the club, and he hadn’t so much as ogled any of the scantily clad women grooving on the dance floor the way he usually did.
I watched Finn stare at my sister as she paced back and forth across the parking lot. Maybe I should have been jealous. After all, Finn and I had once been an item, way back in the day when we were both teenagers and hadn’t known any better. He’d been nineteen, I’d been seventeen, and we’d spent a rather enjoyable summer getting to know each other before we both realized that we were better off as friends than lovers. Over the years, that bond had turned into a brother-sister connection, one that was very important to me. Probably more than Finn knew.
Still, despite my love for him, I wasn’t above yanking his chain, and this was definitely a prime moment if ever there was one. The great Finnegan Lane, infamous womanizer, lusting after my sister, who, so far, was giving him more of a chase than he’d ever imagined.
“You don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” I said in a soft tone, making sure my voice didn’t carry beyond our position behind the Dumpsters.
“Pretend about what?” Finn murmured, still staring at Bria through a gap between two of the metal containers.
“That my sister’s nothing more than another casual fling to you, another conquest to chase down and have your way with before you move on to the next woman.”
It was like I’d flash-frozen him with my Ice magic where he stood. Every muscle in Finn’s body locked into place, and he didn’t so much as blink or draw in a breath. Then, slowly, he turned toward me, his green eyes somehow still bright in his handsome face, despite the semi-darkness that shrouded this side of the nightclub.
“And what do you mean by that, pray tell?”
He tried to make his voice light, teasing even, but I could hear the undercurrent of worry that rippled through his words. Finn might think that digging up people’s deepest, darkest secrets was all fun and games, but he didn’t want anyone to know his true emotions. Not even me. Maybe it was just because he was afraid of what he was feeling—or worse, screwing up my newfound relationship with my sister. I was a little concerned about that myself, but I wasn’t going to choose between Finn and Bria.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Finn. It doesn’t become you.” I gave him a mocking stare. “I know that you’re into Bria—really into her. That you actually feel something for her beyond mere lust. I can see it every time you look at her. You think you’re pouring on the charm, being smooth and suave, but it’s there in your eyes. There’s something about her that intrigues you in a way that I think no one has in a long time. Maybe ever.”
“Feelings.” Finn shuddered and spat out the word. “You know what I think about them. Overblown, overwrought emotion does no one any favors. I, for one, am perfectly happy with my mere lust. It’s clean, simple, pure even.”
I just kept staring at him. Waiting.
Several seconds ticked by before he sighed, shook his head, and dropped his gaze from mine. “You know me too damn well, Gin,” Finn grumbled.
I arched an eyebrow. “You bet your sweet ass I do. Which is why I think this thing is so hilarious. All these years of chasing women, and what happens? You go and fall in love with my sister before you even get her pants off.”
Finn sucked in a breath. “Love? Who said anything about love? Please, Gin. You know how much I abhor that particular word.”
Another shudder wracked his body, as though someone had just walked over his grave. But for the first time, I detected just a hint of wistfulness in his tone. I hid a smile. Oh, yeah. Finn had it bad for Bria.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, admitting that you’ve finally met your match,” I said. “Because Bria is pretty spectacular. Smart, beautiful, tough. You could do a lot worse.”
Finn eyed me with suspicion. He might put on a charming facade, but if there was one thing that made him uncomfortable, it was talking about his own emotions. In that way, we were remarkably similar.
“And why are you suddenly okay with me trying to seduce your sister? If I remember correctly, there was a time not too long ago when you told me to take it easy around sweet little Bria.”
“That was before I realized that Bria isn’t so sweet and little anymore,” I said. “Besides, I’ve seen the way that she looks at you. She’s not quite as immune to your charms as she pretends to be.”
A slow grin spread across Finn’s face. “Really? You shouldn’t have told me that, Gin. Because now I’m just going to try that much harder to seal the deal, so to speak. Even if she is your sister.”
His tone lightened, as though he’d fully reverted back to the carefree, conniving Finnegan Lane who had seduced most of the female population in Ashland and had his sights set on the stragglers. But the barest trace of emotion flashed in his eyes before he was able to hide it from me—hope.
I shrugged as though it didn’t matter to me what Finn did or didn’t do with my sister. I wasn’t telling my foster brother the real reason I was suddenly on board with the Finn-Bria love train leaving the station—the fact that part of me wanted them to have each other to hold on to. Because when I went after Mab again, I probably wouldn’t be around afterward for either one of them to lean on. Better for them to find each other now. Better for them to realize that they could trust each other now, rather than after I was dead and burned to ash by Mab’s Fire magic.
“And what about Owen?” Finn asked. “Jo-Jo called me and said that he came over to the salon to check on you. That he was upset you hadn’t told him what you were up to regarding Mab. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one you left out of the loop last night.”
I shifted on my feet. Finn knew me inside and out, which meant that he could put the screws to me just as well as I could to him. But for once, I didn’t mind his inquisition. I needed someone to talk to this about all this relationship stuff, especially since I was in new territory here.
“Owen started to tell me that he loved me,” I said in a soft voice.
Finn frowned. “What do you mean started to?”
I drew in a breath and told him the whole sad story. About how angry Owen had been with me because I hadn’t told him I was going after Mab and how he’d almost let those three little words slip—words that I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear yet, much less reciprocate.
“He really does care about you, Gin,” Finn said. “I can see it in his eyes whenever he looks at you.”
“I don’t know why. I’m not exactly the stuff that dreams are made of.”
“Oh, please,” Finn scoffed. “Smart, beautiful, tough. Does that ring a bell? Not only does it describe Bria, but it fits you pretty well, too.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But it doesn’t change what I am and everything that I’ve done.”
“I thought that Owen was okay with all of that. With your being the Spider.”
“He might be, but I don’t want to rub his face in it over and over again. That’s just asking for trouble. That’s one of the reasons why Donovan Caine left me, if you’ll recall,” I said, referring to a previous lover of mine.
Finn opened his mouth, probably to analyze my stunted emotional state some more, when I saw something move in the trees.
“Hey,” I whispered, cutting him off. “Looks like we’ve finally got some action.”
A man stepped out of the patch of trees and into the parking lot, heading for Bria. From the way that she straightened, the man had to be her source.
Lincoln Jenkins was a short, extremely thin guy with a mop of frizzy blond curls and a wispy, pitiful excuse for a goatee. A diamond stud too big to be real glinted in one of his ears, while a couple of thick, fake gold chains hung around his scrawny neck. The chains bounced against his white T-shirt, which he had on under some kind of puffy, oversize football jacket. Faded jean
s sagged against his lean hips, and the tops of the denim pants all but swallowed up his pricey sneakers.
“He looks like some kind of wannabe white trash gangbanger,” I said.
“That’s the look that all the petty thieves in Ashland are rocking these days,” Finn replied.
I frowned. “Well, if Jenkins is so small-time, then why is he claiming to have big-time information about whatever’s going down in Ashland?”
“Every squirrel finds an acorn sooner or later,” he said. “Even a low-life hood like Jenkins.”
Finn kept watching Jenkins, but I looked past the thief, examining the thicket of trees that he’d left behind, the shadows that stretched out around the parking lot, and the street beyond with its two SUVs. It all looked innocent enough, but something about this whole thing felt wrong to me—seriously wrong.
Lincoln Jenkins sidled up to Bria. My sister glared at him.
“You’re late,” she snapped. “You said you’d be here ten minutes ago. I don’t like standing out here in the cold, Lincoln.”
“Aw, now, don’t be like that. You wouldn’t want me to slip and fall in the snow, now would ya?” Despite his gangbanger clothes, Jenkins’s voice rasped with a twang that was pure country.
Jenkins might have been talking to Bria, but he wasn’t really paying attention to her. Instead, his eyes flicked from side to side, as if he was trying to determine if Bria was alone. After a moment, a sly smile curled his lips. My thumb traced back and forth over the hilt of the knife in my hand. I didn’t like the look of his smile. Not one damn bit.
“So what’s this information that you have? The thing that you couldn’t dare tell me over the phone? What’s going on in the Ashland underworld that has everybody so stirred up?” Bria asked, her voice as chilly as the night air.
“Aw, you want to get down to business already? You don’t want to ask me how I’ve been or nothing?”
Spider’s Revenge Page 8
