Along Came a Spider tt-3

by Kate Serine

  “We’ll take a cab,” he muttered, grabbing my arm and turning me back toward the hospital entrance. “We’re not riding in the same car as that asshole.”

  I pulled him to a stop. “Stop being a man-baby.”

  He frowned at me. “A what?”

  “A man-baby,” I repeated. “Al insisted that one of the Enforcers take us home in case the Agency tries anything again.”

  “I’ll call Eddie,” he said, referring to his former bodyguard. “I trust him.”

  I turned him around and gave him a look of warning. “You can trust Alex, too. Now, get in the car.”

  Nicky opened the back door of the FMA sedan for me and helped me inside, then sent a dark look Alex McCain’s way as he jerked open the front passenger door, daring McCain to start something with him. He eased inside, still a little stiff from his wounds, then turned his back toward the door, so he could keep an eye on McCain.

  “You need directions?” Nicky asked. But before McCain could respond, Nicky sniped, “Oh, that’s right—you already know how to get to my house, don’t you, McCain?”

  Alex sent a glance my way, looking a little apologetic—and more than a little nervous. Nicky intimidated him. No surprise there. What was surprising was how the guy kept glancing at me in the mirror. Why the hell would I make him nervous?

  We rode in tense silence for the better part of the ride. I kept glancing between McCain and Nicky, wondering if Nicky was ever going to let up on the daggers he was glaring at the Enforcer. Anxious to get the hell out of the car, I was relieved when we finally started to pass landmarks I recognized.

  “What’s your story, McCain?” Nicky asked, suddenly breaking the silence.

  Well, damn. So much for my pending relief.

  Alex shifted a little in the driver’s seat, adjusting his grip on the wheel. “Don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t remember anything from before.”

  McCain was one of the few Tales who came over with no recollection of an origin story. I’d heard rumors of how Al had found him wandering around the streets of Chicago and had taken him under his wing, making sure the Relocation Bureau did right by him, and—when he was ready—giving him a job with the FMA a couple of years ago.

  “That’s gotta be a bitch,” Nicky mused. “Not knowing where you come from, who your people are.”

  Alex shook his head. “Not really. Since I don’t know where I come from, I’ve got nothing to live up to.” He sent a pointed look Nicky’s way. “And nothing to live down.”

  But Nicky was too smooth to rise to the bait. He just donned his mirthless grin. “We all got a past, McCain. And it doesn’t matter a damn if you know what it is—eventually, it’s gonna catch up.” He narrowed his eyes. “So, what are your secrets, you think? What’s comin’ for you one of these days?”

  McCain’s gaze darted over to Nicky, then up in the mirror at me. I cocked my head to one side, wondering what the hell was going on with him.

  Nicky’s grin grew. “But it’s not the past that’s got you twitching, is it, McCain?” he drawled. “It’s the present you’re worried about.”

  McCain’s gaze darted up to the mirror again but he quickly looked away so he could turn off onto the road leading to Nicky’s house. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

  Nicky didn’t press the issue, but continued his stare-down. And the minute McCain stopped in front of the house, Nicky threw open the door and got out, helping me from the car and slamming the door. We’d just reached the foot of the steps when he turned and jogged back to the car. McCain rolled down his window, but didn’t so much as glance Nicky’s way.

  “What do you want, Blue?” he sighed.

  Nicky leaned in and rested his folded arms on the lowered window. “What do I want? There’s a lady present, so I’ll save that one for another time. But just know I’m on to you, McCain. I don’t know what you got going, but I do know when a guy’s not being straight with me. I just hope your secrets won’t put you in my crosshairs. I don’t give a shit who you work for—you get in my way, you put Trish in danger in any way, and I’ll take you out. Take you out before you even know it’s coming. We understand each other?”

  McCain slowly turned his head and met Nicky’s gaze. “You don’t scare me, Blue,” he assured him. “You’re just a washed-up thug who hasn’t figured that out yet.”

  Nicky laughed. “Yeah? Well, maybe so. But are you willing to put that to the test?”

  “Come on, Nicky,” I said, taking his arm and pulling him away from the car. “It’s cold out here.”

  Nicky put his arm around my shoulders and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Sorry, doll.” Then he jerked his chin at McCain. “See you around.”

  McCain shook his head with a scoff, then drove off.

  “Wow—are you spoiling for a fight that badly?” I asked as Nicky and I went inside.

  “I don’t trust him,” Nicky muttered.

  I slapped my hands on my hips. “No shit. He’s hiding something, I’ll give you that. But you showed your hand. That’s not like you. What’s going on?”

  Nicky drew me into his arms. “Sometimes you gotta give a peek at your hand now and then, make everyone wonder what else you’re holding, make ’em sweat a little.” When I frowned, he kissed the crease on my forehead. “Now, come on. Let’s get outta these scrubs and go track down those Agency assholes.”

  Nicky had a fleet of cars that would make Jay Leno salivate. Rows of various styles of vehicle—classic and modern—filled the warehouse Nicky called his “garage.”

  “You actually drive all these?” I asked as I checked out what appeared to be a 1929 Rolls-Royce Phantom II.

  He shrugged as he punched a ten-digit code into a keypad that popped open a safe containing several rows of keys hanging on pegs. “Not all. There are a few so rare I don’t risk taking them out. But most of them get to stretch their legs now and then.” He snatched a set from its hook and shut the door. The safe beeped as its security system engaged.

  “We obviously have lived very different lives,” I muttered as I followed him to a black Range Rover Evoque.

  “Yeah, well, don’t say that like it’s a bad thing.” He opened the door for me, then added with a grin, “Besides, there’s a lot gonna change for both of us from here on out.”

  My stomach tightened, and I almost asked him if that meant he was planning to stick around now instead of taking off again once we’d found Dracula. But the words froze on my lips. It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have right then—if ever.

  I was quiet on the drive to meet with Nicky’s contact, a fact he didn’t miss. At one point, he took my hand and raised it to his lips and gave me a tentative smile. But I wasn’t in much of a talking mood. I returned his smile but then turned my attention back to the window and the buildings blurring by as we drove.

  I was in love with Nicky. And there was no way I was going to walk away from that. He said he loved me, and I believed him. I just hoped it was enough to keep him here.

  I was so distracted by my thoughts, I didn’t notice Nicky had parked until he reached over and put a hand on my thigh. “You okay, doll?”

  I started a little and nodded, giving him a smile far too quickly to be believable. “Just tired,” I said, trying to cover. “Been one hell of a week, you know?”

  He cupped my face and smoothed his thumb over my cheek. “It’ll be over soon,” he promised. “We’re close, Trish, I can feel it.”

  I gave him a determined nod and gladly accepted his brief kiss, clinging to his lips for just a little when a sense of foreboding suddenly squeezed my heart. As we walked down Michigan Avenue with my hand grasped tightly in his, I tried to shake the heaviness that was weighing down on me, trying to figure out what had set it off and coming up with nothing. Every now and then, I’d send a glance his way, studying the planes and edges of his face, his strong profile, committing every line to memory.

  I am going to lose him.

  The thought struc
k me so hard I actually doubled over with a gasp, clutching at my stomach as if someone had punched me in the gut.

  “Trish?” Nicky said, bending forward so he could peer into my face. “You okay, doll? What’s doin’?”

  I shook my head, blinking away tears of heartbreak. I was imagining things. Everything would be fine. As soon as Dracula was brought down, we’d figure things out between us and live happily ever after. We deserved it, goddamn it! I swallowed hard, shoving aside my apprehension. “I’m okay,” I muttered. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  We walked for a few more blocks, making a couple of turns, but I wasn’t paying any attention. The world around me kept going hazy, growing dim, then coming back into focus for a moment before fading again. I shook my head, trying to clear my vision. When Nicky slowed his pace, I squinted at our surroundings, surprised to see we were standing on Wabash Avenue in the middle of Jewelers Row.

  My eyes widened when I saw the sign hanging over the store Nicky was heading toward: Rumpelstiltskin’s, Turning Straw Into Gold Since 1956.

  “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 w
hen 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.